


Monday After Blues (1/17)

by Betor



Series: Rescue Series [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Christmas, Humor, Justice Team Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Betor/pseuds/Betor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark's Justice Team training mission goes awry. Second story in Rescue Series.  Sequel to Evening Rescue.Spoilers For: All episodes. Disclamor: I don't own.  I toyed with DC Comics' property for the free amusement of fellow fans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday After Blues

**Author's Note:**

> In the comics world, I'm very fond of the Black Canary. (Particularly in the Birds of Prey graphic novel series and the Justice League animated series). But the lame SV version of Dinah Lance only annoys the heck out of me.

Clark loops his arm around Lex's waist; the other man's muscled back feels so good pressed against his chest. He doesn't care what his friends say or what his parents say; he's not giving this up. He'd let them convince him to step back from Alicia and agree to an annulment. He'd allowed all their arguments about being too young, and his own fears that without the extra sexual oomph of Red K he might not be able to perform with her, to persuade him.

Everyone in town had been looking at him with that WTF stare when he and Alicia had returned from Vegas. Not always the same version of WTF. His parents and teachers had the What The Fuck Were You Thinking looks. Pete's had been more of a What The Fuck Is It With You And Crazies? Chloe's had been a hurt Why The Fuck Wasn't It Me? Lana's had said Why The Fuck Are You Two Such Lying Liars? Lex's had varied between What The Fuck Were You On and Do You Know What The Fuck You Are Doing?

He can only be glad that Lois hadn't been around then. If she'd ever seen how hurt Chloe had been - Clark cuddles closer to his lover's warmth as he thinks of the Wrath of Lois that has been unloaded on a daily basis on Olsen since the photographer had become fixated on Kara. He'd always thought that it was Oliver's secret identity that had been the breaking point for Lois, but now he can't help but wonder if the identity thing had merely been an excuse - could the real reason be Oliver claiming some sort of intimate relationship with a man that Lois disliked so much?

But then she didn't seem to have any problems with accepting a paycheck that Lex signed. Maybe she'd been teasing him and didn't really believe that Oliver and Lex had had - something between them. He rubs his chin against the reassuring solidness of Lex's wide shoulder. Had Oliver picked Metropolis because of Lex? Clark thinks of Whitney pulling Lana's hair on the playground, and then offering her his chocolate bar at lunch. Is that what's behind all those exploded labs - Oliver trying to get Lex back? Is the Green Arrow tipping up to the penthouse and offering Lex a consoling 'candybar'?

Clark blinks back the bronze haze sliding over them. Oliver's nougat is in serious danger of getting slagged if that's the case. He'd found - okay so maybe Oliver had found Lex first. So what if Oliver and Lex had gone to school together and shared a lot of experiences? Came from wealthy backgrounds. Headed business empires. He locks a hand over Lex's wrist and rubs his thumb over the slow pulse beating there. Lex is his now and he's keeping the older man. He's not letting Lex go. Not stepping back. His parents and friends will have adjust. He nibbles delicately at the temptation of an earlobe and licks the curving rim of Lex's ear. There's an irritated indistinct mutter from Lex's side of the pillow about fucking farmers.

Clark grins and plants a deliberately slobbery kiss on the back of his lover's head and gets a heel smacked against his shin. Lex squirms away from him with more cute grumpy sounds. He glances at the clock. 3:30 AM. He can't linger over snuggling with Lex any longer. Not when he won't have Kara's help with the morning chores since she will be catching the school bus at her friend's house. He eases out of the massive bed and looks uncertainly down at Lex.

Which would be worse - leaving Lex to wake up to a note or waking Lex up to say good-bye? Maybe a shower will help him decide that and which of his powers will be most likely to fascinate Lex. He turns and trips on something soft and lumpy. Clark grabs for the closest black metal post - SNAP! Shit. He whips the post behind his back and stares guilty as the bed wobbles back into stillness. There's no stirring or cursing beneath the field of quilts.

Clark relaxes. That had been close. He examines the iron-wrought post in his hand and the remains of the stump. He could offer to buy Lex a new one, but then he'd have to admit that he'd broken the bed, and that would mean that he'd have to admit to his super strength. Extra strength did seem to be a standard default power for mutants, so maybe Lex wouldn't find it all that interesting. Maybe he should tell Lex about one of his more exotic powers. Heat vision or maybe the x-ray.

He holds the post in place on top of the remaining stump and welds it back together with his heated stare. It looks a little crooked. And squished. He eases it backwards. There. Now maybe if he - Clark pinches at the warm metal, trying to twist tendrils of it into matching the design on the other posts. He steps back to inspect his work, trips over the soft thing again and falls into a chair that goes THUMP against the wall. Shit. He sits quietly, breathing softly and watching the pile of quilts marking Lex's location. It remains still. That's good. He would've pegged Lex as the light-sleeper type, bolting awake at every flutter of moth wings. It's kinda endearing to discover that the older man is such a heavy sleeper. And yet another reason why Lex needs him around.

Clark picks up the soft thing that had tripped him. It's his own plaid pillowcase, filled with clothes. Good. He won't be faced with the choice of going home in one of Lex's bathrobes or sweatpants. With his luck someone would be sure to need a rescue and then Sheriff Adams would show with a whole new WTF look on her face. He winces at the image of standing in front of Judge Ross with only a robe wrapped around him. What if he accidentally flashed her? Would community service cover that? Somehow he doesn't think so.

He walks into the bathroom, pillowcase swinging in his fist. After a moment's fumbling on the wall, he finds the light switch. He drops his pillowcase on the tile floor. He looks around at the gleam of black granite counters and tiles, clear glass, chrome, and dark polished wood. A peek behind the first cabinet door, reveals fat stacks of gray towels with fancy silver borders on the ends. The chrome shelves, build into the doors, hold a variety of exotic looking bath oils, salts, lotions, sunscreens, and soaps.

The edge of the door slips from his grasp - THWACK! Oops. Clark hunches his shoulders and listens, but all he hears from the bedroom is the shift of sheets and pillows as Lex turns over. He relaxes and carefully opens the next door. Huh. There's a small square refrigerator hidden inside. Clark opens the fridge and inspects the scattered bottles of water, milk, ginger ales, and fruit juices. He helps himself to a small bottle of grape juice.

The next door opens on a miniature pharmacy of unlabeled glass bottles in the back. Had those been supplied by Toby or someone else? There's also a huddle of brown plastic bottles with labels from various pharmacies. The front bottles were from Smallville Medical's in-house pharmacist and dated for Lex's last visit. Clark touches the metal case of a large first aid kit and the boxes of medical supples on top. He feels sick as he looks at the sterile needles and thread and surgical glue. There's even a small case of surgical implements. Does Lex actually need this stuff that often or is this a backup panic room?

He tilts his head and eyes the ammo clips and three holstered guns fastened to the underside of the counter. Clark quietly closes the door and straightens. Lex won't need that stuff any more. Not with him. He can provide better security than the most tricked out panic room in the castle. Clark strolls about the room, sipping his juice. An oval hot tub framed in dark wood sits on a marble dais. A chrome and glass stand next to it holds a selection of towels, a couple of empty crystal tumblers, and couple of paperbacks.

He glances at the titles. Huh. Lex is reading up on aquaculture and marine biology? There's a science magazine beneath the books with an eel on the cover and below that are a couple of architectural design magazines with photos of indoor swimming pools and decorative ponds on the covers. He shakes his head and puts books and magazines back on the stand.

There's a huge walk-in shower with multiple shower heads, and across from it, a free-standing bathtub, big enough for two. On the other side, there's a sauna with dark wood benches and a wide pedestal that holds a bowl filled with rocks. Clark sets his empty juice bottle on the counter and for the first time notices a remote resting on the black granite. Intrigued, he picks it up. What does it control?

He pokes a button that has a tiny square on it and a section of tile slides back to show a flat screen TV tucked into a recessed niche. Cool. What had Lex been watching? CNN? Discovery? History? He moves to stand in front of the screen and taps the power button. There's a very busy blond with a mouthful of cock on the screen. Whoa. Lex has gay porn? Had Lex jerked off to it? Would Lex let him watch next time? Those groaning, grunting, and slurpy noises are kinda loud; maybe he should turn the TV off. He wouldn't want to wake a sleeping Luthor.

**"SUCK IT, BITCH! SUCK IT NOW! SUCK IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT!" **

Off! Offoffoffoff. Clark fumbles and hits the right button. He waits. Even his breathing sounds enormously loud in the abrupt silence. A quick squint through the walls, shows Lex still in bed, but with two pillows over his head. Lex's poor bare head probably did get awfully cold this time of year. Clark relaxes and looks back down at the remote. What does that button do?

.

 

 


	2. Monday After Blues  (2/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark wakes Lex up. Shower sex. Lex discovers that Clark is jealous.

Lex scowls beneath his pile of quilts and pillows as music blasts through his bedroom. Clark had discovered the sound system and the mp3 selections downloaded into it. Lex pulls the pillows tighter around his head as the music swerves wildly from classical to rap to rock to jazz and back before his brand new boyfriend manages to silence the music. He peers reluctantly from beneath his pillows and covers at the clock as the hot tub rumbles awake and then powers off into quietness.

Not even 4 AM yet and his eardrums have been assaulted. Perhaps tomorrow he should set his alarm for 2 AM and bellow, "SUCK IT, BITCH! SUCK IT NOW! SUCK IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT!" in his lover's ear. Let Clark enjoy the full experience. Still, startling a flying alien might not be the smartest move; Lex eyes his vaulted ceiling. He wouldn't want to end up smashed between that and Clark.

There's not a hint of dawn lighting the darkness and the winter chill is already seeping beneath the folds of his sheets to trace trails of goosebumps along his bare skin. That too is Clark's fault. Normally, he would be protected by a layer of warm pajamas in addition to the sheets, quilts, covers, and blankets. His pajamas are probably in a cold heap on the floor, but at least his nice thick wool robe is within easy grabbing distance.

But there's going to be that unpleasant couple of seconds between shedding his quilts and wrapping himself in heavy wool. Lex stares at his robe as if sheer will power can mold it around his body. Perhaps he should reconsider this bi business. He can't remember a single girlfriend who had been this noisy first thing in the morning. But Clark's mouth had felt exceptionally good last night and so had the tongue teasing his ear this morning. Lex rolls over and frowns. Why is the corner post at the foot of his bed crooked?

It's iron. While someone stumbling and grabbing the post might jar the bed, it shouldn't damage the frame like that. Fuck! He sits up, ignoring the cold. There's partial palm print on the metal facing him. A Clark-sized palm print. He had just spent the night with an alien, who was strong enough to squash iron, wrapped around him. He should be afraid. Very afraid. But instead - Lex touches his achingly hard cock - he's never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life.

He grabs his robe and wraps the wool around him as he slides out of bed. Lex hurries toward the bathroom. He flings the door open and slams it behind him. His breath catches as he stares at slide of water over the perfect ivory-gold skin of Clark's back and ass. There's no way that the brunette could have failed to hear his dramatic entrance, but Clark continues to preen in the shower as if oblivious. "Clark!"

Clark casually looks over his shoulder. "Good morning, Lex."

"Do you know what time it is? Do you?"

"I dunno. After 3 maybe?"

"Try 3:45. That's AM, Clark. AM!"

"And that would be why I said, 'Good morning, Lex' - the whole AM thing. You got something against mornings?"

"I have something against someone yelling, 'Suck it, bitch' without even buying me dinner first."

"Oh." Clark turns around and slicks his hair back. He grins. "You heard that? Sorry."

"Heard it? Half the fucking castle heard that."

"It wasn't that loud and I did offer to buy you coffee last night."

"Coffee." Lex gives him a look of complete disdain. "And what might you be expecting after a cup of coffee? I might - might - allow you to unfasten my cuff links after that. Providing that it is excellent coffee."

"What if I buy you breakfast and coffee?" Clark squirts some soap on his washcloth and rubs it over his chest and down his stomach.

"Clark, if you plan on using the phrase, 'Suck it, bitch', you better have a shiny new jet parked on my runway."

"A jet, huh?"

"Or something else that flies." Lex keeps his expression bland as Clark starts.

Clark stares at him, green eyes wary. "I didn't think that you liked flying."

"I might. Under the right conditions."

"What if I have something else to offer? Something better than a jet."

"Better than a jet?" Lex raises his eyebrows. "Such as?"

Clark purrs, "Lex, you are a god among men."

"That's all you got?" Lex stalks closer to the shower. "Try it again. Without the smirk."

"Wow. You don't want much, do you? Lex," Clark pauses and clears his throat, "Lex, you - okay, okay, wait. I got this." He leans back against the granite and cants his hips at a provocative angle as he gives his lover a sultry jade stare. "Lex, you're wonderful. Oh, wait. That's not it. Thank you, Lex? No, no, that's not it either. Oh. Now I remember. Lex, you are a god among men."

Lex strides forward, shedding his robe. He shoves the shower door open and steps inside, crowding Clark closer against the damp tiles. "I see that we need to practice that one until you get it right."

"Come on, give a guy a chance. I got it now. Really. I do. Lex, you are -"

Lex slaps his hands against the tiles on either side of his lover's head. He leans in and growls. "I have a 5 fucking AM wake-up scheduled for that damned meeting. Do you have any idea how much coffee I will have to drink to achieve even the semblance of alertness, much less actual alertness?"

Clark's smirk widens as he ogles the older man's erection. "You look pretty alert to me."

"So do you." Lex glances down at the uncut cock lifting hopefully toward him. He leans closer and kisses Clark slowly, savoring the lush warmth of his lover's mouth. The damp nuzzle of the brunette's cock against his own has him pressing closer. Oh, yes. He could cum from just this, Lex thinks as he rubs against his lover, but he wants to go a step further. He wants to try something else. He slides one hand down his lover's chest, and over the ivory stomach to finger dark curls.

"Lex."

Lex smiles at the needy note in his lover's voice. "Yes, Clark?"

"Have you ever dated - a blond?"

"What?" Lex blinks. Where the hell had that come from? He'd been half-expecting an inquiry about all the women that he'd dated up until last night. Or about taking Victoria out to dinner before hosting the LexCorp Scholarship Winners party, but perhaps Clark is aware that his relationship with Victoria has shifted over the years toward more buddy and less fuck. But blondes? How did blondes feature? "Dated? No."

Clark scowls. "Fucked then."

There had been an occasional blonde on his personal menu list, but on the whole he preferred brunettes. What blonde in his life could possibly have put that almost Luthor tone in Clark's voice? He's used Mercy more than Gina lately, but she's his bodyguard, and if fucking your guard is stupid, fucking your other main bodyguard's girlfriend is seriously stupid. Lex frowns at the exasperating brunette sulking in front of him. "I like brunettes. You know that."

"That's not a no, Lex."

"Mercy is my bodyguard. I don't fuck my bodyguards. It's stupid."

"I'm not talking about Mercy and you know it! I thought that I could do this, Lex. But I can't, I won't if you won't be open with me about you and -" Clark bites his lip.

"Me and who? What the hell are you talking about?"

Clark stares at him with big tragic eyes. "Oliver."

"Oliver?" Lex asks. Oliver? God. Of all the people that Clark could pick to suspect - his lips curl back in distaste. "Oliver Queen? Are you completely batshit crazy?"

"Don't try to deny it. Lois told me."

Lex closes his eyes. He thinks of his goldfish and foaming red water. He takes a deep, slow breath. Holds it and then lets it out slowly. Would his fish find a reporter as tasty as a scientist? Only Clark and Chloe would never stop looking for Lois if she disappeared. Given the choice, he'd much rather fuck Clark than murder Lois and Chloe. "What did Lois say?"

"She said that Oliver said -"

"Oliver said!" Lex opens his eyes and scowls. What the fuck had Oliver told Lois? Had Oliver confessed one night to being a reformed bully? Had the millionaire dared mention their first meeting in the shower room? Burning humiliation and rage bubbles upward as he imagines Lois knowing, Clark knowing, Chloe knowing as the story spreads across Metropolis as it had across Excelsior. That's it. Millionaire is now on the goldfish menu. "What the fuck did that moron say?"

"That you liked him."

"I LIKED him?! HIM!"

"Oliver is a very attractive man." Clark looks down at the water swirling around their feet toward the drain. "I could understand if you two -"

Lex opens his mouth on an indigent denial and then closes it. He studies Clark's subdued expression. If Clark thinks that Oliver is a disgruntled ex, Clark will be dubious about anything Oliver says about him. And if Oliver became too annoying, he could cast the cupcake as the Stalker Ex out for revenge. That could work as well as for his relationship with Clark as all those destroyed labs had for LexCorp's finances. The contracts he'd gotten from people convinced that if someone was trying that hard to stop his R&amp;D section, that it must be on to something really fabulous, Lex sighs with satisfaction. He leans into Clark and kisses the younger man. "Forget Oliver. I have."

Clark searches his lover's face. "Are you sure? You have more in common with him than me."

"I have nothing in common with that blond cretin."

"Lex. It's not very nice to talk about an ex like that. If you didn't like him, you wouldn't have been with him."

Now would probably not be the time to tell Clark that he has fucked over select opponents physically, mentally, and corporately, all at the same time. And that he'd enjoyed every second of it. Lex shrugs. "What can I say? We go together like hailstorms and windows."

"Oh." Clark looks hopefully at him. "How would you say we go together?"

"Us? We're ice cream and apple pie. Do you even need to ask?" Lex leans in for another reassuring kiss. His eyes drift closed as Clark takes control of the kiss, turning it into something more aggressive. Lex nips back as he feels the edged nibble of teeth on his upper lip. He shoves Clark back and opens his mouth to the push of the younger man's warm tongue. He slowly pulls back, looking into his lover's darkening stare. "I want to be with you."

Clark asks quietly, "What does Oliver want?"

"Nothing that he's going to get. I promise you that. Forget him. He's boring, but this," Lex slides down to his knees. He looks down at the dark flushed cock. It looks much like his aside from being uncut and surrounded by a cloud of curls. "This is very, very interesting. Absolutely fascinating."

"Lex. God. I've dreamed for years about you. About you doing this."

"Only this? Or are there a few other things that I do in your dreams?" Lex wraps one hand around his lover's cock. His thumb glides over the tip as he tries to remember how Clark had gone about this last night.

Clark laughs huskily. "Only a few million."

"A million? It might take a while to try all those out." Lex glances up. He can't allow Clark to figure out that his experience in this area is limited to the porn that he'd watched last night and satisfying Victoria's ass play kink. Not if he wants Clark to keep believing that he fucked that blond loser. He tugs experimentally on the younger man's cock. "I wonder if Vibrant Rose or Red Verve would be the paint shade that would best match this."

"Paint?" Clark stares down at his cock and then at Lex, his eyes widening with horror. "Lex, you can't!"

"Oh, but I can. It's been awhile since I tried portraiture instead of plein air landscapes, but for you, I'm willing to make an exception. Or at least combine the plein air with portraiture - tell me, Clark, how would you feel about posing in the gardens for me?"

"Cold. It's December."

"I'm not married to the plein air concept. I can compromise. What about under a Christmas tree? I can have one set up in my office." Lex grins at the outraged glare directed at him. "No? What about in front of a fireplace? I'll even allow you to wear something - a Santa hat. That way, I would be certain to use both Vibrant Rose and Red Verve. What do you say, Clark?"

"It sounds like you're the one who should be buying me coffee and breakfast."

"Coffee and breakfast? That's all? It will be waiting downstairs at five. Got a Santa hat?"

"Lex!"

"Oh, that's right. Artist provides the props. What's your hat size?"

. 


	3. Monday After Blues (3/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shower sex. Clark tries to find the perfect pet name for Lex. Lex threatens Clark with gifts.

"Forget it, Lex. I am not going to - oh, god."

Lex tries a lick across the crown. The velvety hot texture and slightly salty dampness isn't that different from what he's used to. He rubs his lips against it and then swipes the tip of his tongue over the hard roundness. The thick hot heaviness against his tongue is a little disconcerting. The thought of sucking it into his mouth is both exciting and intimidating. He slides his mouth teasingly over the crown, trying to adjust to the width

"Oh, god. Please don't tease me now. I've waited so long for this. For you." Clark touches his lover's smooth head. "Please, Lex. Please."

Lex takes it into his mouth. His tongue flickers softly over the foreskin, tasting more of the salty goodness as Clark pleads breathlessly. He sucks it deeper, mouthing the thickness that stretches his mouth. His mouth has never felt so invaded before. Not since - he flashes on a memory of the asylum and the protective gag being forced into his mouth as he is prepared for electroshock. Lex pulls back suddenly, shivering despite the warmth of the steamy warmth of the shower.

"Lex?" Clark gently urges his lover to look upwards. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"It's nothing. Just a memory."

"Bad memory?"

"It's nothing!"

"Look, Lex, we don't have to do this. We can do something else if you -"

Lex slips his finger into his mouth and sucks noisily on it. Still holding the other man's gaze, Lex slides his finger out and probes delicately behind Clark's balls. "I'm up for this. You?"

"Oh, god." Clark widens his stance. "God, yes. But only if you're sure that you want this."

"Oh, yes. I'm sure." Lex sucks his lover's cock back into his mouth, concentrating for a moment on the living warmth of the flesh gliding over his tongue. No rigid plastic or cold metal. Just the salty width of Clark filling his mouth. Lex relaxes as his fingers part his lover's cheeks and rub over the soft furl hidden between. He presses a fingertip inside. He wiggles his finger deeper as Clark rocks against him, chanting his name. Lex insinuates a second finger into the tight heat. His lover's hands cup his head, featherlight, despite the increasing urgency of Clark's movements as the brunette rocks back and forth between his sucking mouth and thrusting fingers.

"Godgodgodgod. Ohhh, Lex. Oh, goooodddd. Lex, I'm going to - AHHH!"

Lex braces himself and swallows. He chokes as he inhales at the wrong moment, and then swallows again. Lex leans his head against Clark's warm flank as he coughs. That had definitely been different. Not a bad different. A good different. Like red wine versus white. And one that he has every intention of tasting again. He reluctantly slides his fingers from Clark's body.

"Lex? Babe? You okay down there?"

"Babe?" Lex looks up with a frown. "I don't think so."

"What's wrong with babe? It's not like I called you 'sweetie'."

"Are you insane? Completely totally batshit insane?"

"Oh, alright. What about 'sweetie bear'? Would that make it better?" Clark asks. "'Suck it, sweetie bear' has a certain -"

"If you ever want anything sucked again," Lex allows the brunette to pull him to his feet and hug him, "I strongly suggest that you forget about it. Luthors do not have pet names."

"No? What am I supposed to call you then?"

"Try 'Lex'. It's worked perfectly well for the last seven years." Lex studies his lover's face suspiciously.

Clark suggests, "My dad calls my mom 'sweetheart' as well as 'Martha'."

For a dazzling moment, Lex toys with the idea of insisting that he's always secretly wanted to be addressed as 'sweetheart'. He can already see the stunned outrage on Jonathan Kent's face the first time that Clark addresses him with the endearment. But then he'd be stuck with enduring being addressed as 'sweetheart' for the rest of his life. "No, Clark."

"What did your dad call your mom?"

"Lillian," Lex snaps.

"Oh." Clark's gaze softens. "I'm not a Luthor, so if you want to call me 'babe' or something, that's okay."

Lex smirks. "Is it now? I'll have to that some thought."

"Something within reason," Clark hastily adds. The edges of his mouth twitch upwards. "Sweetie bear."

"In a couple of months, we will have known each other eight years - sugar stick." Lex grins as the brunette barely manages to hide a wince. "Perhaps I should turn my attention to pondering possible anniversary gifts. Did you know that the traditional gift for an eight anniversary is an electrical appliance? I could have something delivered to the farm."

Clark's eyes widen apprehensively. "An electrical appliance? I don't - I mean, that's okay. You don't have to get me anything. Really."

"Have all the toasters that you need?"

"Toasters!" Clark laughs with relief. "Toasters. Oh, I thought you were talking about - I mean, yeah, a toaster would be okay."

"Or if you already have a toaster, I could get you a waffle maker," Lex offers. Which store had Clark bought that vibrating butt plug from and did they have something even more interesting in stock? A musical butt plug perhaps? A strobe light one? A glow in the dark? Perhaps one that could be programmed with downloaded sounds - mooooo!

"A waffle maker would be good too."

"An espresso machine. A hair dryer. A microwave. A Porsche," Lex muses. "The possibilities are endless, Clark."

"I don't think that a Porsche falls in the electrical appliance category, Lex."

Lex widens his eyes. "It doesn't?"

"No. Not even for Luthors, so don't try to tell me that."

"I can see that you are going to be difficult about this. How about a tractor?"

"Are you always like this when you wake up early?"

"No, I'm worse. Much, much, much worse." Lex purrs as he runs a sly hand over his swollen cock.

"Lex." Clark licks his lips as he watches his lover's lazy stroking. "I want to suck you."

"What will you give me?"

"Give you? My mouth on your cock isn't enough? You didn't have a problem with that last night."

"That was last night. Before you decided to call me 'babe' and 'sweetie bear'" Lex gives himself another stroke. "The price of admission to the fun park just went up. What will you give me?"

"What do you want?"

"I want you to have breakfast with me."

"Done." Clark slides to his knees and leans forward to claim his prize, but his mouth is blocked by Lex's hand.

"And."

"And? There's more?" Clark nibbles gently at his lover's long fingers. "This is getting awfully expensive. I don't know. Maybe if I could taste the merchandise first. First sample is free, right?" He nuzzles Lex's hand aside and swipes a teasing lick across bare balls.

Lex moans huskily as Clark slowly explores with kisses and licks. His hips lift in response as he hears Clark's shuddery breathing. All his words flee him, leaving only the most important one as his lover's beautiful mouth closes around him. "Clark. Clark." He can't seem to stop saying the one word left to him as Clark sucks his cock deeper. "Clark, Clark, Clark, Clark."

He clutches the heavy muscles of his lover's shoulders as Clark works him, adding sly flourishes of tongue, and teasing him with changes in pace. Is Clark even breathing? He can hear his own breathing, loud and rough, like he's running for his life. Clark's name escapes him in ragged gasping sounds; it sound nothing like a real word now even if it's still the realist word that he possesses. Lex cries out and yields to the hot demand of his lover's avid mouth. "CLLLARRRK!"


	4. Monday After Blues  (4/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan and Martha try to enjoy thier vacation, but worry about Clark and Kara alone on the farm.

Jonathan signs with satisfaction. Turkey sausage with cranberry salsa isn't something that he would have ordered, but it does make for an interesting breakfast. Spicy and sweet-tart is a nice change from his usual. He hopes that his Martha is making mental notes on and planning to charm the bed-and-breakfast hosts into revealing the recipe. He smiles at the rest of the excitedly chattering group who had decided to take part in the promised trail ride.

He shakes his head slightly. The other couples seem enthused about the idea, but they look like a bunch of city folks; he'd bet that he and Martha and their hosts are the only ones who won't be sore tonight. Jonathan glances toward the fat Christmas tree glittering on the other side of the room. They'll put up their own tree as soon as they get back. He doesn't know who's more excited about Kara's first Christmas tree, Kara or Martha. He eats the last of his sausage and leans closer to his wife. "I wasn't expecting anything like this when Clark told us that he'd finally won that contest."

Martha scoops up a bite of fluffy eggs laced with peppers. "I would've been sending entries too, if I'd known that the prizes were this good. I still can't believe that a tour of bed and breakfast inns is the second place prize. When Clark said that he'd won, I assumed that it was a DVD or digital picture frame."

Jonathan smiles as he anticipates strolling into the Smallville Feed N Seed, armed with tales and photos of his adventures. So much for Fordman and his stories about his football star son. "How long has Clark been sending pictures and cereal boxtops in?"

"I think he was eight when he first noticed the contest and wanted to enter it. He sent in a photo of me of feeding the chickens."

"All these years and he finally wins. You suppose they got tired of seeing his name? Or our pictures?"

Martha laughs softly. "I can't imagine who gave Clark the idea that perseverance pays off. Or that any goal worth achieving is worth some hard work."

Jonathan grins at her over his orange juice. "I think we're both guilty of that one."

Martha nods. "Some may say that Clark is too quiet."

"Or that he's crazy for turning down the football scholarship."

"Let them say it." Martha scowls fiercely. "I don't see Adela Fordman's son getting a scholarship any other way."

Jonathan sighs. "I can't say that I don't wish that he'd picked something else as his major. Think of what he could do with the farm and a marketing degree."

"It's what he wants to do. I'm sure that he will be good at it."

"Of course, he will." Jonathan stares down at his eggs. He has every faith that Clark will do well, but he can't help but worry about the farm's future too. Generations of Kents had worked that land. What will happen to all that heritage when he's gone? He looks up as his wife pats his hand; he can tell from the concerned look in her lovely eyes that she knows what he's thinking about.

"It won't be the first time that a Kent left the farm. And when the times comes," Martha's smile wobbles for a second, "Clark will keep the farm going."

"He'd try and with his abilities, he could probably pull off two full time careers, but people would notice - and talk. It would draw too much attention. Besides I want my son to pursue his dreams. I'll sell the place myself and move to Metropolis before I let it hurt him." Jonathan rips apart an orange-cranberry scone.

"Don't be such a pessimist. If Clark doesn't want to manage the farm, then maybe his sons or daughters will."

"I hope that it happens, Martha. But Clark hasn't shown any inclination to settle down. Not since Alicia died. Maybe we shouldn't have insisted on getting that marriage annulled."

"No. We did the right thing." Martha shakes her head. "They were too young to understand what they were getting into and I think they knew that in their hearts. An annulment was the sensible thing to do."

"Alicia's father wasn't any happier about it than we were."

"And it's not like they couldn't have gotten married again later if they really wanted to. Clark did stop fighting us on it once we told him that if he still wanted to marry her after he went to Met U, we would help them."

Jonathan drinks his coffee. The second he'd seen his Martha in his college classroom that'd been it; he'd pursued her like she was his last chance of keeping the farm afloat. He wants someone like that for his boy, but after Alicia, his son never seemed that interested in dating. He sighs heavily.

Martha picks up her hot chocolate. "Shame about what happened to Alicia when she was beginning to turn her life around."

"He still takes sunflowers to her grave every year."

"I know. I watch him from the kitchen window as he cuts flowers, always so careful to cut the most perfect ones. I wish Clark wasn't so attracted to that type."

Jonathan leans back in his chair and looks at his wife's worried face. Personally. he'd feel a whole lot better if he was more certain of exactly where Clark stood on dating preference. There had been that senior year when Whitney and Clark had double-dated with Lana and Chloe; he'd never been exactly sure who was really dating who. "Adela say anything to you about Whitney's wedding?"

"Only that they had changed the date again."

"Oh. That's what - the third time?" Jonathan asks.

"She says that it's got something to do with when some of the bride's family can be there for the ceremony."

"Uh-huh." Jonathan eats the rest of his eggs. He wouldn't have minded if Clark and Whitney had been more than friends, but he'd never been able to think of a tactful way to introduce the subject and Clark hadn't volunteered anything. With a nice healthy farm to raise kids on, adoption shouldn't be a problem for anyone that Clark felt inclined towards. Or Kara either.

Only there's Clark's troubling attraction to crazy and the undeniable knowledge that there is a serious case of it living at the castle. And although he doesn't see it himself, he's heard enough talk to know that there are plenty of people who think that Lex is attractive. Had his son's dramatic first meeting with the town's most dangerous and deranged resident has left his son with a permanent preference for the type? The idea that Alicia and Lex share a similar fairness, and a certain sly slinky quality, as well as that little psycho glint in their eyes, doesn't make his spicy breakfast sit any easier in his stomach. Jonathan puts his fork down.

"Did we do the right thing in leaving Clark and Kara alone? We've never left Clark alone for this long, and Kara's still - adjusting to living with us."

"Sweetheart, you know how disappointed Clark would be if we hadn't gone on this tour."

"I know, and I am enjoying it, but I can't help remembering a certain anniversary dinner in Metropolis."

"I've never forgotten that one either." Jonathan chuckles. "Our son is a young man now, not a high school kid."

"Maybe not, but Kara is and high school can be a difficult time."

Jonathan pats his wife's hand. "Clark knows better than we do what Kara is going through. I'm sure he can help her with adjusting to her new home. They will both be fine. Sweetheart, stop worrying. We're going to have a great time and when we get home, everything will be fine. Count on it."

   . 


	5. Monday After Blues  (5/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark helps Lionel with Christmas tree placement. Lucas interrupts.

Clark inches further toward the big stained glass windows. He can only catch glimpses of the deep purples and dark reds through the spiky limbs obscuring his vision. He nudges a springy limb aside with his chin, trying to get a better look at the skinny man leaning on wooden railings above. Does Lionel know that he spend the night with Lex? Had breakfast with Lex? Agreed to a nooner? Waved bye as the helicopter lifted from the castle's roof into the air? Perhaps he should've taken Lex up on a scenic trip to Metropolis. He'd almost made it to the front door when Lionel had spotted him in the hall. Damn it. Clark peeks between the tree needles. Had his pretense that he had just arrived via the front door fooled Lionel?

"I think that we've almost got it," Lionel announces. "Try moving a quarter inch forward."

Clark takes a cautious step forward.

"No, that's too far. Back up an inch. One inch, Clark, not two. Half inch to the left," Lionel orders. "My left, Clark!"

Clark moves the other way. And he thought that his mom had strong opinions on Christmas tree placement. Good thing that possible locations are limited in the farm house. He doesn't even want to think about what she could do with this many rooms to move trees around in. At least Lionel already had it narrowed down to one tree and one room. "How about here?"

"I don't know."

Great. He can't see his watch through the greenery. What if he doesn't finish up in time because of Luthor related delays? What he's late getting his chores done and getting to the Justice Team meeting? What if the team gets worried and finds him still at the castle - with his arms wrapped around a Luthor Christmas tree? Yeah, that'd go over well. But what's he supposed to do?

He wouldn't have refused any other neighbor who'd asked him for help. And Lionel might not have a bad ticker like his dad, but he's not a young guy either. Somehow he doesn't think that that will cut the mustard with Oliver. He can already hear Oliver's light voice asking if Lionel doesn't have like fifty trillion people in the castle to lug Luthor trees around. Clark scowls. Not that Oliver has any business asking him anything about Lex any more.

"I believe a little more to the right would be good. No, no, your right, Clark."

Clark gingerly inches away. "Here?"

"Yes. Perfect!"

Clark sets the tree carefully down on the polished floor, gently disengaging himself from the branches. He taps the massive red ceramic pot with the toe of his sneaker. "You better find something to slip under this pot or this wood's gonna get a water stain."

"The housekeeping staff can see to that."

Just as long as it isn't him. He's got a young cousin to watch over, his town to protect, a Lex to figure out, J Team meetings, classes, and a farm. Why doesn't anyone ever get how much of his time that takes up? Or that he can't speed his way through all of it. His first and only attempt at speed milking hadn't gone over well. It had been weeks before the Holsteins stopped trying to kick him on sight while his dad puzzled over their sudden hostility.

Clark looks up at the tree towering over him. There's just enough room between the tip and the high ceiling for an angel or star. Or knowing Lex, a Warrior Angel topper. Clark brushes needles from his sweater and twigs from his hair. He looks around the library, eyes widening as he finally has a chance to take it all in. Red and white poinsettias in gold and silver wrapped pots crowd the edges of room and march up the double staircase that leads to the balcony of books.

A jolly life-sized Santa waves from the top of the balcony staircase, a big gold velvet bag at his feet. Scarecrow thin, sweater-vested Lionel makes an odd contrast with the rotundly cheery Santa. Rudolph, red-nose blinking, peers over the balcony next to Lionel. The wooden banisters are twined with gold velvet ribbons, round silver balls, red stars, and twisty purple spirals.

"What the fuck is that?"

Clark turns to see Lucas gawking from the doorway. "It's a Christmas tree. What does it look like?"

"I know it's a Christmas fucking tree, you asshole. What the hell did you bring it here for? Do we look like Christmas tree people?"

Clark looks the youngest Luthor up and down. His lips curl as he looks at the long black wool coat wrapped around Lucas' black suit. "No, you look like mini-Lex."

"Better than looking like a backwards rube, jerkwad!"

"Lucas!" Lionel steps around Santa. He moves down the staircase. "Language."

"What!" Lucas sneers as he jams his fists into his black coat. "Scared somebody might think I was raised on the streets?"

Clark turns his back on the snarling Luthors and admires the tree. It'll look even better once it's decorated. He glances at the stacks and stacks of ornament boxes. Looks like Lionel is going for a silver and gold color scheme for the tree. He likes that better than the thousand shades of pink tree in the Talon, or the Beanery's blue and white tree.

The traditional red and green tree in the DP's lobby is nice and friendly looking. He still hasn't managed to figure out how LuthorCorp's all silver tree, and LexCorp's equally large all purple tree, manage to project the impression that anyone who stands too close might get eaten.

But the best of all will be the Kent tree with all it's mismatched glory of hand-made ornaments, popcorn garlands, and glowing lights. Clark smiles as he wonders if Lex has ever personally decorated a tree. The Kent tree might make a nice starter tree for his lover and a tree decorating dinner ought to give his parents a nice neutral venue for getting used to Lex.

"I can't believe that I'm wasting time with you two." Lucas glances at his watch and backs out the double doors. "God. I'm outta here."

"I should be going as well." Clark retreats under Lionel's tawny stare.

"Thank you for helping with the tree, Clark"

"You're welcome." Clark hesitates. Should he tell Lionel that Lex suspects that he's a mutant? That Lex had probably seen him using his powers last night? Maybe he should let the two Luthors sort out who knew what between them. Clark looks into Lionel's curious eyes and resolves to stay out of interLuthor conflicts. He can add it to his New Year's resolutions list with the others. Like 'get a costume' and 'eat less pie'. "I'm sorry that I missed Lex. I'll call him. Later. When he gets back."

"Does Lex seem fine to you, Clark?"

"Oh, yes!" Oops. That probably sounded a little too enthusiastic. Clark fights back the grin pulling at his lips. But, god, yes. He'd been over every inch of Lex this morning and it had all looked really really fine. Tasted even better. "I mean, yeah. He seems okay to me."

"That's good. My son is," Lionel pauses. He rubs a hand over his short grizzled hair. "Lex can be difficult, but he's basically a sound boy. Aside from a few trust issues."

"Ummm," Clark murmurs. He's not touching that one. Not from the edge of Smallville city limits. Not from Metropolis. Not from the Atlantic coastline. Not from the moon. Not even from the far reaches of outer space.

Lionel waves his hand. "No, no, don't say anything. Dr. Dawn has helped me own and understand my own role in that. I'm doing my best to make it up to my sons. Even if they don't believe in me, or believe that I love them."

He can't think of a thing to say to that either. No matter how much or how fiercely he's argued with his own dad, he's never doubted that his dad loves him. But then his dad had never hit his mom or him or forced him to choose between his parents. Clark takes another step away. "Oh."

Lionel smooths his vest. "I'm looking after you as well, Clark. Don't worry."

"You are? That's, umm, great." Clark glances uneasily at the group of snowmen clumped together on Lionel's vest. Neither the blinking berries on the sprigs of mistletoe in their gold hats, nor the green scarves wrapped around thick white necks softens the impression that the snowmen are planning something very, very, very bad.

"Clark, cheer up." Lionel smiles at him. "'Tis the season to be jolly."

"Umm, yeah. Jolly." Clark tucks his hands in his coat pockets. "I guess I better get back to the farm."

"I may have gone a bit far with the Christmas decorations this year." Lionel frowns as he looks around the room. "I wonder if getting a feng shui expert would help."

"Feng shui?" Clark stares. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you wanted to do it."

"Dr. Dawn talked about it in an interview yesterday. She said that she had developed a case of writer's block while working on her last book and it disappeared after she hired a feng shui expert to redo her study."

"Oh," Clark murmurs weakly. Dr. Dawn? Is that the same new age TV personality/writer that Chloe had been chortling at during lunch yesterday? He'd been more interested in his steak and cheese sandwich and hadn't paid much attention to the TV blaring in the corner of the sandwich shop. "I think I may have seen her on TV."

"I wish I could persuade my sons to watch her. I think it would help them immensely." Lionel gives him a look of warm approval. "I should have known that you would appreciate Dr. Dawn. I have purchased her complete set of DVDs and books for my sons' Christmas gifts."

Clark bites down on a smirk as he visualizes Lucas tearing into a big beautifully wrapped package to find Dr. Dawn books. That he would pay good money to see. His smirk disappears as he suddenly wonders if a set of Dr. Dawn is gonna be showing up under his own tree.

. 


	6. Monday After Blues  (6/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gina touches Lex that one time too many.

Oh, for fuck's sake, already? He doesn't have time for this crap today. He'd known that Gina was going to be a problem from the second she had held his handshake just a shade too long. Since then she'd progressed to hot stares and open yearnings. Not that he isn't worth a good long ogle, but she's supposed to be looking for enemies, not checking out his ass. But if there's one thing his parade of guards has taught him, it's when to kill his losses and find a new one.

Could he put it off a little longer? Lex stares at the metal doors of the LuthorCorp elevator, trying to ignore the itchy annoyance of Gina's avid brown stare. Perhaps it's time to move Mercy and Hope up; give them a field promotion so to speak. Still the timing is inconvenient. Perhaps if he can ignore - Lex sighs as her trembling hand settles on his shoulder.

That's it. How many security persons are watching with amusement as their boss' son gets groped in a fucking LuthorCorp elevator by his own guard? The comforting hug of his shoulder harness tempts him toward the weight of his holstered gun, but no, Lex redirects his hand to his black leather belt. He's not going to yield to his temper where it can be caught on film. He sets his face to statue stillness. Had Gina noticed that abortive twitch of his hand?

No. Too busy ogling the fullness beneath his belt. What is it with his guards? He never fucks his guards. Never. So why do they keeping trying? It starts with a friendly squeeze to the shoulder. Then a hand that lingers just slightly too long. Next thing he knows, he's finding naked bodyguards wallowing in his silk sheets. Getting blood and brains out of silk, that's just impossible. He'd really liked those sheets too, damn it. He'd had to wait absolutely forever for replacements in Perfect Plum to be made for his custom bed.

Lex smiles secretively as he remembers sharing breakfast with Clark. It had been nice to see Clark's wide grin across the table. Play time in the shower had been good too. Discovering a new way to annoy Oliver while simultaneously making Clark doubt any accusations that Oliver might make, that's a sweet bonus. He would've liked to have lingered longer with Clark, but he needed to have enough time to drop by his office and make sure that the goldfish that Todd selected are adjusting well to their new home. He glances at Gina. Would his fish like some fresh kibble or would it be better to give them a little longer to settle in? He'll have to ask Todd about that.


	7. Monday After Blues  (7/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Chloe talk in her new apartment.

"Oooooh." Chloe sits in her new apartment's tiny kitchen and admires her latest holiday coffee cup acquisition. It's a stylish blue number with tiny silver Christmas trees on it. Something new and something blue in a single purchase. It feels right, even if she had bought the mug to celebrate a housewarming rather than a wedding. She draws her finger over the silvery rim.

Her first Christmas cup of this season. She smiles with private satisfaction, ignoring the rumble of Clark's voice and the back-up sounds of Metropolis morning traffic. It's good to be back in the city. It'd taken her months to adjust to the quiet of Smallville and the limited entertainment options when her dad had moved them there. Of course, she had discovered certain consolations on her first day of school.

Chloe wistfully eyes the powerful shoulders filling out Clark's white sweater. Her gaze drops to vague outline of long legs beneath loose jeans and lingers on his very large navy sneakers. She sighs softly. She'd had years to resigned herself to the reality that it wasn't going to happen. Now that she's an adult that knowledge barely touches her on most days, but there's still the occasional day when it aches like a fresh wasp sting.

It had taken Lana longer to figure it out, but to be fair, Clark had thrown everyone off the track with that brief marriage to Alicia. There hadn't been any real reason, aside from all the Lex ogling sessions, for anyone to figure out the truth. Clark hadn't been the only one who'd been confused about what he wanted. Senior year, they had all been searching and trying to figure it out.

She'd discovered that she liked kissing girls and guys. Clark had decided that he'd rather be kissing guys. Whitney hadn't been willing to admit anything, but she'd had no doubts about which of their little circle of double-daters got Whitney the most turned on. And if the wedding invitation that had found its way to her new address is anything to judge by, Whitney still isn't making any admissions.

Lana - Lana had remained undecided that year; she'd claimed to like kissing all of them. Chloe strokes the trees on her cup. She had never been certain how much of Lana's reluctance to state a preference had been genuine confusion and how much sprang from qualms about hurting feelings. Once senior year was over, Lana had married Lex fast enough. Of course, she'd divorced him fairly quickly as well.

Chloe looks hopefully at her coffee pot, but it's almost empty. Oh, well. It's not like Oliver won't have a big pot perking away at the meeting. She's going to miss waking to drifting scents of Talon coffee and the roar of the bean grinders, but being closer to both the Planet and Oliver will make her dual jobs much easier. Too bad she has to forgo having a front row seat to the Sheriff Adams versus Clark show.

Sheriff Adams had a distressing tendency to not only notice that the emperor isn't wearing any clothes, but be willing to arrest him for it. Chloe grins suddenly as she wonders if it's ever frustrating for the Sheriff that Judge Ross keeps sentencing Clark to community service, and Clark continues on his apparently endless quest to protect Smallville from roadside litter. There's something comforting about the consistency of it.

Chloe eyes the beautiful arrangement of purple orchids that smirk at her from the most distant corner of her table. What's the message there? Nyah, nyah, nyah, Justice Team sidekick? Welcome to the Smallville Meteor Freaks Association? Sorry I missed running over you and Oliver down last night? Her first thought when a delivery gal with an armful of the orchids had showed up on her doorstep had been 'Where were the hidden cameras and bugs?'

She'd made Clark x-ray the arrangement the second that he'd shown up at her door with his box of Kent Farm preserves and jams. The orchids are far too beautiful to dump in the trash, but she's never going to be able to relax with those Luthor-tainted flowers in her apartment. What if they emit subliminal suggestions all night and she wakes up addicted to purple just like Lex? Or if Lex is truly as evil as she thinks - purple plaid flannel?

"Would you stop staring at those flowers like you're waiting for ninjas to jump out of the vase? It's just a floral arrangement. No ninjas, no cameras, no listening devices." Clark pull a jar of apple jam from his box. "No hungry vampire bats. No giant spiders. No rabid tree frogs. Nothing."

Chloe turns in her chair, careful to keep the orchids on the edge of her vision. If ninjas or tree frogs attack she wants to be able to smack Clark right between his pretty green eyes. "Ha. All Lex has to do is loosen his tie and you wouldn't notice if a whole croaking crowd of tree frogs climbed castle battlements. Not unless a stray frog got between you and Lex."

"I have no idea what you mean. If you're going to be like that I'll let the tree frogs get you."

Chloe grins at him. "No, you won't."

"I won't?" He glances over his shoulder. "You're sure about that?"

"One hundred percent. If the tree frogs get me, then your folks get a letter naming the proud owner of the world's largest collection of genuine Lex Luthor doodles."

"What? How did you know about that?" Clark almost drops the second jar of jam.

"I was a teenaged girl reporter. I heard all. Knew all."

Clark shoves the jar into place. "There's nothing wrong with appreciating art."

"Oh, I didn't realize that we were discussing Art. I thought that we were talking about random Lex scribbles."

"They aren't scribbles! Lex is - he's really good, Chloe. And it's not like I steal them. Lex sketches on everything - napkins, programs, envelopes, bills - I'm not even sure if he knows that he does it. I just kinda find them. That's all." Clark pushes aside a box of instant hot chocolate to make room for more preserves.

"'Kinda find them', Clark?" She tilts her head at his silence. Should she push him a little more about his friendship with a certified lunatic or back off for the moment? "Will you at the very least promise me to be careful around Lex? More careful."

"Leave it alone, Chloe. Lex and I understand each other."

"Lex is like this mug, Clark."

"Like your mug?" Clark pivots and stares at her. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at her. "Uh, Chloe? Did your coffee get Irish this morning by any chance?"

"Look at it." Chloe holds her cup up. "You see this?"

"Blue. Silver. Trees. Still not seeing a Lex connection."

"It's a hot/cold mug. When it's cold, you see silver trees. When it's hot, you see snowmen."

"Ooookay. And your point is?"

"That the same thing can look different depending on the circumstances."

"What happened to seeing all and knowing all?" Clark asks.

"Alas, I'm not a teenaged girl reporter any longer. I'm a mutant zombie queen. Whole different group of skill sets."

Clark studies the determined brightness of her smile. "I'm worried about you. Oliver is worried about you. The J Team is worried about you. My mom and dad are worried about you. Kara is -"

"What are you trying to do - give me a complex? You almost had me right up until you mentioned Kara."

"Just because she's - you know - that doesn't mean that Kara doesn't care about you."

"I believe the phrase you're looking for is 'dating your ex-boyfriend'. Only he wasn't ex when she started chasing him."

"She didn't know. She just liked him. And he wasn't exactly running away. Kara's not a bad person, she's just - "

Chloe shrugs, conceding the argument. "Young. I know. Did you tell your parents or the J Team about my secret zombie powers?"

"No! Of course not, Chloe."

"Then what are they worried about?"


	8. Monday After Blues  (8/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Chloe continue thier conversation.

Clark tucks his hands in his jean pockets. "My parents keep asking me about you. So do the guys. They've noticed that you've been quieter lately. They know that you've got something on your mind. You do know that it wouldn't make a difference in how my parents or the team feels about you? If you want to tell them and that's why you haven't -"

"No. I know. I'm not ready." Chloe sighs. "I haven't even told Lois, but I know that she suspects. She's just waiting for me to be ready to talk about what happened, but I can't."

"The longer you don't talk about something, the harder it gets. You kinda get in the habit of not talking. Not even when there's people that you really really want to talk to about it."

Chloe gives him a wry smile. "The voice of experience, huh?"

"It scared me when it took so much longer for you to," Clark pauses, searching for the words.

"Get unzombieified?" Chloe suggests as she wonders uneasily exactly what she looks when she's doing her corpse imitation. She could ask, but does she really want to know? Probably not.

"Unzombiefied?"

"I wonder if there's a tiara to go with the zombie queen job? I could wear it on special occasions like Halloween."

"You were out longer after you healed Lex. What if next time - "

"Clark," she cuts him off with a wave of her hand. That sort of completely unanswerable question is exactly what she would rather not be brooding over on her day off. And she will if he keeps this up. "I've never tried to save two people at the same time. Not until I walked into that Project Intercept lab."

"You think that's what did it?" Clark asks. "The number of people?"

"I do. Two people would equal twice the recovery time." She peeps at him from under her lashes to see if he's buying that facile argument. With Clark, she never knows. He can be maddeningly oblivious or appallingly intuitive, but she never knows which reaction she is going to get. "Maybe. I don't exactly have a lot of data to extrapolate from here."

"Aren't you worried? I am. Chloe, what if next time - "

"What if, what if, what if. My life's a freaking minefield of what ifs. I don't know, Clark! If there's a meteor enhanced rule booklet, I wanna know why no one gave me a copy."

Clark takes a small container with six apple jams out of his cardboard box and sets it on the counter. "Maybe we should write one. Every Smallville resident would be a sure sale. What about 'Living With Meteor Enhancements'?"

Chloe counters, "'101 Ways to Cope with Enhancement'."

Clark flattens the box and drops it in the recyclables bin. "'The Meteor Enhanced Guide to Life'."

"It might even make the bestseller list if we could get Lex to write the intro. You haven't said anything your little vacation in Lex World. Did you see anything blackmail worthy while you were in there?"

"Chloe!"

"Aha. So you did. What?"

"I can't tell you what I saw there. It would be a violation of his privacy."

"Walking around in his head wasn't? Come on. It's almost Christmas."

"Almost Christmas? We barely finished with Thanksgiving. Jeez, Chloe, you're as bad as Kara. She's completely fascinated by the idea of Christmas trees."

Chloe nods. "A definite point in her favor. But forget Christmas trees for now."

"I'd like too," Clark mutters, "but Kara's marking off the days until it's time to cut one. She spends hours on the Internet looking at pictures and researching tree decorating traditions. I dread the day she discovers the 'O Christmas Tree' carol."

"Clark, snap out of it and focus. Did you come across any stray LexCorp business while you were on walkabout?"

"I was hunting for memories about Kara, not taking a general tour."

"And you didn't stumble across anything interesting while you were looking? Mad scientist projects? Shady business deals? Murders?"

Clark frowns at her. "Lex has good in him."

"Lex is dangerous."

"I know, but - you asked me what I saw - and he does have a good side. A part of him that wants to be good. To be better. I saw it."

Chloe runs a hand through her hair, barely resisting the urge to yank hanks of it out while screaming loudly. How many times has she had this discussion with Clark? "Lex does have his good points, but he's always gonna be like my mug, Clark. The snowman side is always going to be there, hidden by the pretty trees, whether you look at it or not. He's a dangerous man and always will be."

"I'm not giving up on him and I'm not stepping away from him. I did that once. I'm not doing it again. If I hadn't walked away from Alicia -" Clark's mouth tightens.

Chloe sighs as she notices that Lex's name is printed on the gift tag attached to the small box of jams. When is Clark going to get it? Alicia was dangerous too. And the scary thing is that going from Alicia to Lex is like upgrading from a summer storm to a monster tornado. "Clark, it wouldn't have worked out in the long run; you're gay and Alicia was a homicidal loon."

"If I had insisted on staying married to her, I could've protected her. Got her out of Belle Reve and into a place where she really could get better!"

"You don't know that. Clark, please -"

Clark reaches for the brown coat that he'd left folded over one of the chairs. "We better leave. It's almost time for the meeting."

"But first a word from our sponsor," Chloe says in her best news announcer voice.

"If this is more words on Lex, I don't hear it," Clark warns.

"Lois, actually."

"Lois?"

"Uh-huh. Ever since Jimmy and I broke up, Lois has been trying to fix me up. You may be next on her list. She's determined to have me hooked up in time for the office holiday party."

"Me?" Clark stares at her with an unflatteringly alarmed expression. "I hear Oliver is a fun date. He's at loose ends since Lois tossed him back in the ocean."

"Maybe I play for Team Brunette." Chloe stands up.

"Like Lex?"

"I believe that it's commonly agreed that Lex lacks ethics, not aesthetics."

"Bart's a brunette." Clark grins at her. "Want me to drop him a hint?"

"Get real. Unlike Jimmy, I don't date the high school set."

"I'm pretty sure Bart isn't going to high school."

"Great. Another thing that I need to talk to Oliver about. If I can pry him away from his latest feathered friend long enough." Chloe rolls her eyes.

"You don't like Dinah Lance?"

"No. Strange as it may sound, I'm not terribly fond of masked floozies who knock me out, scream at my friends until their ears bleed, and hit my cousin. Oliver certainly seems fond of her. He's been encouraging her to participate in team missions." Chloe scowls as she moves to the counter and turns off her coffee maker. She strides back down the short hall to the coat rack next to her front door, ignoring the clomp of big Clark feet behind her.

"Oh. I haven't seen her at any J Team meetings yet. I have run into her a couple of times around town. With and without Oliver. She seems really - uhm - well, she's kind of - I'm not sure she would fit with the rest of the team."

Chloe grabs a white coat and shoves her arms into the sleeves. "Yeah. Dinah is definitely really kind of."

She jams a knit hat over her head and wraps the matching blue scarf around her neck. If she keeps sidekicking with Clark, and Oliver's Justice Team, as well as working with Lois, it's only a matter of time before she'll feel compelled to heal someone again. Is there a limit on how many times she can pull that one off? How many times before she doesn't come back?More what ifs to not think about. Chloe forces a smile as she opens the door. "Come on, Clarkbar. Let's see what Oliver is serving up with breakfast."


	9. Monday After Blues  (9/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas tries to annoy Lionel during a LuthorCorp meeting.

Silence falls across the board as Lionel Luthor finally strides into the conference room and takes his seat. His assistant trots along behind him and slides quietly into a chair in the corner of the room, ready to take notes. Lionel sets his PDA and leather-bound notebook on the table. He drops his gold fountain pen on top of the LuthorCorp logo. "Gentlemen, today, we are here to -'

The raucous sound of "Smokin' In The Boys' Room" fills the conference room, overriding Lionel's voice. Lucas gives it a slow count to three before he picks up his singing cell phone. He glances at his father's irritated face and holds back a grin. "Sorry, Pops. I forgot."

"Lucas." Lionel frowns. "Turn that off."

"Sure thing." Is his dad's annoyance for the music or the 'Pops'? Lucas glances across the table at his brother. Only a faint quirk at the edges of Lex's lips betrays amusement. Lucas deliberately fumbles at his phone's buttons before finally silencing the song.

Lex turns an attentive face towards Lionel, "You were saying, sir?"

Lucas mouths 'brown-noser' at his brother as their dad launches back into speech. His brother ignores him and returns to making precise notes across the crisp purple of his legal pad. Lucas ignores his own closed notebook and pen. He studies the small screen on his phone, scrolling through the list of music. Which tune should he spring next? A little pop music for Pops?

What about boy band music? Or rap? Maybe some little ditty about dysfunctional sons and the man who raised them? Or in his case, had abandoned him to a series of disinterested fosters, and then the streets. Lucas starts as someone sharply kicks his shin under the table. What? Lucas looks up from his phone to find the whole LuthorCorp fossil board staring at him. Whoops. He puts his phone down on the table and stares back. "What?"

"Well Lucas?" Lionel prompts.

"Yeah, Popster?" Lucas gloats inwardly at the tiny twitch of muscles in his dad's face.

"Do you think that you can handle that?" Lionel asks.

Shit. What had he missed? What's he supposed to handle? Has the old man finally given him something interesting to do? Lucas glances at his brother and gets blank eyes and blank face. No clues there. Apparently Lex thinks that whatever it is, he deserves it for not paying attention. Lucas gives his dad a confident smile. "Sure, daddy-o. I'll take care of it for you. No problemo."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that, son." Lionel turns his attention to the rest of the board. "Now, about those figures on the proposed Thompson takeover, Mr. Lloyd -"

Crap, crap, crap. What the hell had he just agreed to do? Lucas holsters his phone and pretends to listen. Now, he's gonna have to ambush Lex to find out what Lionel wanted him to do. At least, he hasn't pissed Lex off too much lately, so he won't have to jump through hoop after hoop to have a word with his brother. Or worry that Lex will give him some ridiculous task totally unrelated to whatever Lionel actually wanted him to do. How much more of this boring number crunching crap is he gonna have to sit through? He glances at the time on his phone's screen. Great. Hours yet until lunch and no guarantee that his dad won't decide to ignore lunch time and keep going and going and going.


	10. Monday After Blues (10/170)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark attends a Justice Team meeting.

Clark stares out the clock window and through a few layers of concrete and steel as he watches city workers putting up more Christmas wreaths and lights. Typical. He'd barely finish the turkey and pumpkin pie, and bam-boom! Christmas. The displays densely clustered around the shopping districts don't surprise him. What does intrigue is that the clustering of Christmas decorations around LexCorp and LuthorCorp seems particularly intense this December.

Three times as much stuff around those two buildings as there is around the Daily Planet. Coincidence? He thinks not. But what's behind it? Had it started with the workers being bribed into doing it as a sort of preemptive psychological strike on Lionel's part? Had Lex promptly suborned the workers to put up even more stuff around LuthorCorp? If so, it looks like the Luthors have reached some sort of strategic parity now since both buildings have exactly the same number of items outside.

It might not have been Lex or Lionel. Maybe the city council thought that surrounding Luthors with decorations would have the same effect as garlic on vampires. Or maybe Lucas had decided that it would be a great practical joke. Clark drifts off into delightful fantasies of a vexed Lex hunting down Lucas, and finally deciding to accept his longstanding offer to drop Lucas into the cold, deep center of Crater Lake.

"You got that, Clark?" Oliver asks sharply.

What? Oh. Clark jerks his attention back to the familiar map that Oliver's laser pointer had been flicking across. Why is he supposed to be paying attention to this again? He's only lived in Smallville as far back as he can remember. In fact, there are a whole lot of local landmarks that aren't on Oliver's map. He's briefly tempted to point that out, but if he does, he'll never get away in time to catch Lex for that promised nooner. "Uh-huh. Got it."

"Good." Oliver puts his pointer on the table next to his coffee. He lifts one eyebrow and waits.

Clark sighs. He knows that tactic from Lex; rushing to fill the silence with the first words that rise in his mouth is never a good idea. He can't seem to stop doing that when it's Lex giving him the eyebrow. But Oliver's eyebrow isn't nearly as effective for some reason. Maybe because Oliver isn't the one who gets him impossibly hard with a single glance. Clark looks at the others seated around the table.

Dinah is watching him with open doubt. Victor gives him an understanding grin; the ex-football star is the only one of the group who absorbs facts as swiftly as he does. Merely because he hadn't done more than glance at the images projected onto the wall doesn't mean that he doesn't know the material. Give him a fact and it's his for life whether he wants it or not. Putting the facts together and coming up with something new that's not really his strong point. He's always amazed at how Lex and Chloe can take a handful of facts and bake a three layer cake of speculation and surmise while he's only got an apple cobbler's worth of theory.

"You should pay attention during these briefings, Clark." Dinah gives him a disapproving stare over the rim of her herbal teacup. "Oliver isn't talking to hear the sound of his own voice."

"He isn't?" Clark rounds his eyes at her. Would it be wrong of him to use his speed to dump a few handfuls of sugar into her tea? He reaches for his third chocolate filled doughnut and bites into it. "Ummmmumm."

"But Oliver has such a nice voice - so restful." A.C. snaps sharp white teeth into his muffin. He stares at Dinah as if wondering how many sharks it would take.

Chloe pats the swimmer's muscular forearm. "Not as restful as yours. It makes me feel like I'm standing on a beach, listening to the surf."

Victor smirks cheerfully at A.C. "God knows it puts me to sleep fast enough. Your voice is better than one of those white noise machines or the peaceful ocean type of CDs. Have you ever thought of recording yourself?"

"You could read poetry," Chloe suggests. "I'd buy one."

"Menus," Bart chimes in.

"Grocery lists," Clark suggests with a grin. "I bet you read a mean grocery list."

"As it happens, I pride myself on my soulful renditions of cereal box ingredients." A.C. leans back in his chair. He toys threateningly with the zipper on the front of his florescent green sweater.

"Watch out!" Victor claps his hands over his eyes. "He's going for The Pecs!"

"No! Not The Pecs!" Chloe puts her hands over her face. She peeks through her widely spread fingers at A.C. "And whatever you do, don't flash the six-pack at us either."

"How do you ever get them to do anything?" Dinah looks at Oliver. She picks up a slice of plain wheat toast.

"It's a gift," Oliver tells her gravely.

"Is it safe to look now?" Victor slow lowers his hands.

"Once around the table, starting with you." Oliver waves toward Clark. "Or I'll give A.C. permission to unleash The Pecs."

Clark smirks around his last bite of brownie. "I'm gay. I like pecs. Bring 'em on, A.C."

"I'm a girl, and boy, do I like a nice set of pecs," Chloe announces.

"That's two votes for The Pecs." A.C. lowers his zipper two inches. "I'm bi. And as it happens, I have a very fine pair of pecs that I'm always willing to share."

"Do any of you understand the concept of too much information?" Dinah asks, frowning at them from beneath the dark bangs of her wig.

"No, so you better get used to it if you are going to roll with us." Victor points a stern finger at his neighbor. "And no, you don't get to vote any pec related issues A.C. We're going to Smallville for a practice mission. Chloe is going to run communications from the Crater Lake club house which Oliver has rented for a small Christmas party this evening."

"I'm will be attending the party with my fake date." Chloe grins at A.C. who smiles back at her.

"Why do I have to be Dinah's cousin again?" Bart asks. "Why can't I be someone's date?"

"Wanna be my date?" Clark teases. "I don't have one for the party."

"Whatever you do, don't dance with him," Oliver warns. "You might need your feet later."

"There's nothing wrong with my dancing." Clark looks around the table. His friends smirk at him. Damn it, he can dance too. "I can."

Bart shakes his head. "Sorry, Clark. I'll stick to being Dinah's cousin. It'll be a lot safer if there's going to be dancing involved."

"Lois is going to be so mad if it comes out that the Green Arrow was spotted in Smallville and she missed it." Clark stares at Oliver. The other man is looking really nice in an olive sweater and brown trousers. Elegantly thin and touch-me-not expensive. Exactly like Lex. He can all too easily imagine those two lounging on a European beach, surrounded by movie stars. Clark scowls.

Chloe shakes her head. "It's all good clean fun until someone loses a body part, which you are so going to do, if you don't stop teasing Lois."

"She started it," Clark retorts. "Just because she started the accelerated degree program before I did and got out first, that doesn't meant that she's going to be the boss of me when I get a job at the Planet."

"See what a big consolation that is when you're missing a part." Chloe smirks at him.

"I'm going as myself. Dinah is going as my new girlfriend. I want everyone to keep sharp. Be observant while we're doing this in Smallville." Oliver takes a sip of his drink. "I don't care what that bastard says, he did not come back from the hospital a reformed man, and I'm going to prove it."

"He has," Clark insists.

"Yeah, right." Oliver snorts. "And you know that how?"

Clark glares in silence at the blond. At the edge of his gaze, he can see Chloe inspecting a chocolate chip muffin like it might be a mutant muffin. He can't tell Oliver about Project Intercept and being in Lex's mind. He and Chloe had promised not to talk about it.

"Yeah. That's what I thought." Oliver nods.

. 


	11. Monday After Blues (11/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex and Lucas discuss Lionel.

Lucas strides into his brother's LuthorCorp office to find Lex ensconced behind the chrome and glass desk. He shuts the door behind him and stares at the glass-covered rectangular pool in front of Lex's desk. He walks to the edge and stares down at the brightly colored fish frisking about the dreamy drift of green plants and over a bed of dark purple gravel.

More fish dart in and out of miniature castles and, Lucas snorts, the empty eye sockets of a fragmented skull. Others dart around the curves of a rib cage. Is that a finger bone sticking out of the colorful gravel? He glances up from the fake bones to find his brother watching him. "That's new."

"You can stand on it if you wish. The glass won't break."

"What's with the fake bones? Been watching too many pirate movies?"

Lex smiles demurely. "What makes you think they are fakes?"

Startled, Lucas takes another look. Where had the finger bone gone? He'd seen it just a second ago. Hadn't the skull had a few more teeth in it? "Like from an anatomical supply house or something?"

"Something." Lex smiles, bright and wide, as he looks up from his laptop screen. He picks up a coffee cup with a thin platinum circle spiraling around the white china and takes a drink. "What did you want, Lucas?"

"Me? I want to know what did the dadster wanted."

"Dadster?"

"You don't like it? I thought it had a nice ring."

Lex takes another sip and sets the cup back on the saucer. "Pops seems to have the biggest flinch factor for him. Not that I'm keeping score."

Lucas shrugs. "You got your ways of getting under his skin; I've got mine. Do you think he counts me as a real Luthor? Or am I just a way to piss you off?"

"You are a real Luthor, Lucas. Don't doubt that."

"I'm not so sure that dad believes it."

"Dad's been off his game. Surely you've noticed."

Lucas drops down into one of the chairs facing the desk. "More like playing games. What's up with him?"

"His change into the Anti-Luthor?" Lex shrugs. "I'm not sure, but I would suggest that you play along until we see where this is going."

"He took me out to dinner last Saturday."

"Oh?" Lex pushes away from his desk. He strolls over to a drafting table in the corner of the room and unrolls a long sheaf of papers. "How did that go?"

"It was scary. He said that he wanted to talk to me about my future. I was hoping that he was gonna put me in charge of something like he did you."

Lex looks over his shoulder. He arches an eyebrow. "You have ambitions involving a crap factory? And people claim that I'm odd."

"Prick. You know what I mean. Look what you did with that factory. I could do something like that. Particularly with access to your expert advice."

"You would trust me to help you build your very own corporation? I'm touched."

Lucas gives him a big white smile. "Sure, bro."

"Liar." Lex looks back down at his papers. "So what did dad suggest for you?"

"God. You'll never believe it. He enrolled me at Met U. He handed me a schedule for next semester - a full load of core classes." Lucas groans.

Lex sniggers. "Did he pick a major out for you too?"

"Social work of all things. Can you imagine me reforming delinquents? So I know he's not serious about that, but what is he up to?"

"Could be any number of things. The only way to find out is to go to your classes and see what develops. It's not as if a little formal education will hurt you."

"How much good has it done you?" Lucas asks. "How many universities did you get kicked out of?"

"You have a long way to go to match my numbers on that. It's not without an upside, Lucas - think of all the girls you'll meet."

Lucas stands up and stretches. He hadn't thought of that angle. Might be worth sitting through a bunch of boring classes to scope out the Met U girls. The parties would probably be damned tame by his standards, but there might still be fun and boobs to be had. "I supposed it won't hurt to try it out. See how it goes."

"That's the spirit."

He walks over to Lex and peers around his brother's shoulder. Lucas frowns at the blueprints and sketches. "What's that?"

"Plans for indoor goldfish ponds for Luthor Manor and my LexCorp office."

"Goldfish?" Lucas glances back at the fish lazily cruising around. "Why?"

Lex shrugs. "Why not?"

"Does dad know about that?"

"He said that he was glad to see me putting my artistic skills to good use."

"Oh." Lucas frowns. "I thought that he didn't like it when you did that sort of thing."

"He doesn't." Lex traces his fingertip over the lines of the ornamental border design that he wanted for his LexCorp office. "He's always considered my artwork a waste of time."

"Huh. Maybe he wants you too busy with this to interfere in whatever he's got going on."

"Perhaps."

"Or maybe it's a reward for attending that dumb-ass anger management group shit."

"It wasn't a complete loss of time," Lex murmurs.

"If you say so." Lucas looks at the neat list of materials needed and the specs. "Umm, Lex, why is your pond sound-proofed? And what's with the automated shatter-proof glass cover?"

"Goldfish are delicate creatures. They need to be coddled and protected."

"Uh-huh. Remind me not to stand too close to the edge. I'd hate to fall in and not be able to get back out."

Lex allows the plans to roll back up. "It's only a pond, Lucas, not the Pacific ocean."

Lucas sighs. "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"

"Ask what?" Lex walks over to his bar. He takes out a bottle of water and tosses Lucas a beer.

"What did I agree to do this morning?" Lucas twists off the top and drops it in the trash. He grins. "Do I get to pressure some suit? Or 'persuade' a local politician to see things the LuthorCorp way? Arrange for a little blackmail material?"

"No."

"Something more fun than that? What?"

Lex takes a sip of his water. "You get to make some calls to facilitate the arrangements for dad's charity auction. It seems that some of the prospective bachelors and bachelorettes are feeling skittish about the prospect of auctioning themselves off."

"I - what?"

"It is short notice."

Lucas glares at his brother. Lex knows perfectly well that the shortness of the notice isn't what he's pissed about. "A party? Some phone calls? That's it? Dad can hire someone - anyone - to do that for him."

"He could, but he wants you to do it."

"Why for fuck's sake?" Lucas takes a long, consoling drink of his beer.

"He didn't say."

"Shit. What do I know about charity parties? He shoulda asked you."

Lex smirks at his brother. "But he didn't. He ordered you to do it."

"A fucking party." Lucas stalks over to the bar. He grabs a second beer and stomps out. "College. God, what is the old man gonna demand next? Flowers?"

Flowers. Now there's an idea for a story assignment that would drive Lois up the wall. Lex smirks. The article on Metropolis' sewer system could wait until later. Who knew that brainstorming a list of assignments to aggravate Lois could be so entertaining? And while he's at it, why not annoy Chloe too? If he'd known that owning a newspaper was so much fun, he would've bought the Planet a long time ago.


	12. Monday After Blues  (12/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's attempt to talk to a jealous Clark is upstaged by the Cupcake Cowboys.

Oliver stares down at the streets below. Everywhere he looks, he can see reindeer, snowmen, angels, trees, wreaths, gifts, and Santas. Except in front of his Queen Industries building. He frowns as he looks at the multitude of decorations creeping around the bases of LexCorp and LuthorCorp. What are those bastards trying to do? Make Queen Industries look like some sort of Christmas hater? It's exactly the sly shit that Luthors would pull. As soon as he's done straightening Clark out, he's going to make a few calls, and they'll see which building has the most visible Christmas spirit. He turns to face the glowering brunette. "Okay, let's have it."

"Have what?" Clark slouches in a chair across from Oliver's desk. He folds his arms over his chest and stares back with sullen green eyes.

Oliver sighs. One of the bad things about running a team is that if one member isn't upset or sulking over something, another one is. On his worse days, the whole team is whining, sulking, or bitching. There's a reason he keeps an extra large bottle of headache tablets in his desk's top drawer. Next to antacids. "You've been glaring at me all morning like you could set my hair on fire."

"It's been a temptation."

Oliver sits down abruptly on the edge of his desk as he thinks of all the impossible things that he's seen Clark do. Clark couldn't actually - Oliver clears his throat. "You can't really set my hair on fire, can you?"

"Did you ask me to stay behind to talk about your hair? I've got stuff to do. Farms don't run themselves."

"Like deliver that to Lex?" Oliver nods toward the small box of six gold topped jam jars sitting at Clark's feet. He can see Lex's name printed in block letters on the gift tag.

Clark's mouth flattens and the sullen glitter in his eyes shades darker. "You got a problem with me seeing Lex?"

"A problem?" Oliver echoes disbelievingly. A problem? More like hundreds of problems with a metahuman as powerful as Clark coming under that sneaking bastard's influence. "No, Clark. I don't have a problem. I have a few hundred thousand problems with it."

Clark surges out of his chair. "I knew it!"

Knew what? Is that singed hair that he smells? Oliver's eyes widen as Clark stomps toward him. With anyone else, he wouldn't be that concerned, but as strong as Clark is - Oliver forces himself to stay in a relaxed perch on his desk and not betray that he feels like a sparrow with a locomotive heading toward it. "You did?"

"It started back at Excelsior, didn't it?" Clark demands.

What? Him and Lex striving to fuck each other up? Oh, shit. Had Lex told Clark about that day in the locker room? He would have gambled that Lex would have been far too proud to ever mention it. Not that he's proud of it himself; if he could go back in time and undo that moment - not for Lex's sake - but for his own self-respect, he would. Hell, he'd take back every cheap bullying stunt that he'd ever pulled at Excelsior, but life didn't work like that. All he can do is try to make a difference now. Oliver shrugs. "A lot of things happened at Excelsior. Most of them bad."

"Is that why you and Lex almost never talk about going to school there?"

"It wasn't the best of times for either one of us." Oliver runs a wary hand through his hair. Is it just his imagination or do the ends feel a tad warm?

"But it's over now?" Clark asks sharply.

"Excelsior was a prep school. It's been over for a long time. It went out of business back in -" Lex starts as his office phone beeps at him. He pokes the speaker button. "Yes?"

"There's a delivery for you, Mr. Queen."

Oliver takes a deep breath. It's been like this all day. God. He hates it when his secretary leaves him with some temp staff person while she's on vacation. Would she give up her vacation time if he offered her a substantial raise? "I'm in a meeting."

"Yes, sir. I know, but according to the notes that Miss Parker left, you are to be notified immediately if there are any deliveries or mail from Mr. Luthor."

Oliver looks up at the sound of a sharp gasp from Clark. What? Why is Clark huffing and glaring at him like that? Surely Clark can't care if Lionel sends him another bottle of scotch, or that weasel Lucas sends over a batch of drunk hookers, or Lex sends him some deceptively innocent item with a load of brain-fucking implications. He sighs. He might as well get it over with. "Send it in, Mr. Larkins."

His office door opens and three men in tight jeans, snug plaid shirts, and cowboy hats stride into the room. Oliver blinks. What the hell? At the corner of his vision, he can see Clark is staring too. There's something oddly ominous about the red flush sweeping over the other man's face. What's in those white boxes that the men are carrying?

"These here are for you, sweet thang." The first cowboy flips his box open, revealing rows of pink frosted cupcakes with tiny bouquets of pink glittery roses stabbed in the centers. "From Mr. Luthor."

Before Oliver can get his mouth open, the second cowboy is placing a box of mint green iced cupcakes on his desk. There's a set of golden candy crossed arrows piecing a pink heart on each one. His hearts stutters in his chest as the stares at them. Is this decoration selection as random a choice as the pink roses and pink icing on the first set of cakes?

"Sugar plum, Mr. Luthor said to tell you that when it's over, it's over," the second cowboy announces with a friendly slap against Oliver's shoulder.

The first cowboy nods. "No calling, no writing, no bat signals, sweet thang. Done is done."

"But he hopes that you can still be friends." The third cowboy slides his box of rainbow frosted cupcakes on the desk. "'Cause he really hates it when he misses you."

Oliver stiffens. So that's what this is about! Lex had known that it was his car that the damned Luthor had almost hit last night. He stares down at the iced cakes. Is that bastard taunting him - saying that he's a cupcake?

The first cowboy tips his hat. "This song's for you, sweet thang."

The second cowboy slaps the button on a boombox and then all three cowboys rip off their shirts. "We're just cupcake cowboys -"

  


	13. Monday After Blues (13/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex and Victoria discuss how difficult it is to find good staff.

Lex smiles as Victoria struts into his office. His friend's red business suit only hints at the rich feminine contours of the body beneath. The only trace of seductress is the provocative dip of pearl necklace beneath her breasts. "Back again so soon?"

"What can I say, darling? You're irresistible." Victoria closes the door and poises against the wood. She frowns for a second as she spots the goldfish pond with two ribs curving along the purple gravel and a thin dome of skull beneath the drifting fronds of a plant.

"What do you want?" Lex asks.

Victoria gives him an exaggerated eyelash flutter. "Your great big - jet."

"My jet? What happened to yours?"

"Pilot error."

Lex raises his eyebrows. "Pilot error?"

"He's been taking money from my father to spy on me."

"Ah. That sort of pilot error." Lex measures the degree of ire sparking in his friend's pretty eyes. "Do you need a clean up on Aisle Three?"

"That's sweet of you, but no." She glances at her delicate pearl and gold watch. "I believe his co-pilot is informing him of the error of his ways at this very moment."

"So you broke yours and now you want to borrow mine?"

"It's not like you are using it, is it?" Victoria directs a pointed stare around his office. "Or are you telling me that you too have pilot issues?"

Lex looks serenely back at her. "Mine know better."

"Oh, that's right." She smirks at him. "It's your bodyguards that you have so much trouble with. I noticed that you had a whole set of new ones. Whatever happened to the tall guy with that lovely curly hair?"

"Charles? He - slipped."

"He did? One of those unfortunate household accidents?"

"Jogging."

"Jogging?" Victoria watches him with interest. "I would've bet on one of those castle staircases. So steep and slick if your housekeeping staff get over-enthusiastic about their cleaning."

Lex flattens out the smile that curves his lips. "How very preceptive of you to understand the hazards of staircases so well. If only Thomas had. Pity. He was such an excellent bodyguard in every other way."

"So what happened to poor jogging Charles?"

"He was guarding me. Jogging along behind "

Victoria giggles. "Have heart failure over the view, did he?"

"Luthor Manor does offer many scenic aspects and views, as you know, and while I don't deny that distraction played a part in the jogging accident, the main factor was the dangerous proximity of that jogging path to a very steep bank on the far side of Crater Lake. One of my shoelaces came undone and Charles made a - misstep. He fell and broke his neck. He was quite badly thrashed on the way down."

"How sad."

"Yes. My dad seemed somewhat perturbed."

"Oh? Were they close?"

Lex shrugs. "Not close exactly, but they did like to jog at the same time and the trails that they favored tended to intersect at certain points. No doubt that forms a fellowships of sorts."

"No doubt. I hesitate to raise what may be a sensitive topic, but I couldn't help but notice last night that your new guard - what is her name again?"

"Gina."

"She seems to have a certain potential." Victoria laughs. "Really, Lex, where do you find these prizes?"

"I am fully aware of Gina's potential."

"One could hardly fail to be. Does she have any interesting hobbies? Swimming? Welding? Tinkering with electrical outlets?"

"Why are you still standing around my office? Don't you have some shops to plunder in New York? Here, I'll call my pilot now." He picks up the black cell phone sitting on his desk.

"Lex! That's so cold. And after all we shared last night." Her eyes widen and her full lower lip acquires a faint quiver. "I thought that we shared something special."

"We did. Pomona's chef makes a superior alfredo sauce." Lex studies her face critically. "You've gotten better. Been studying with a drama coach?"

Victoria pouts at him. "Bastard. You know you had fun last night."

"So did you." Lex begins texting a message to his jet crew.

"We always do, Lex. You could go to New York with me. We could have even more fun if you'd let me talk you out of your trousers."

"I can't leave Metropolis at the moment. There are things that I need to deal with."

"Got a case of daditis? Poor baby. What's Lionel done to you this time? Tell me all about it."

"Oddly enough, not as much as usual."

"He is getting older. Perhaps he's slowing down. My father isn't as actively aggravating as he used to be." Victoria strolls across the room to sit on the edge of his desk.

"I don't think that's it."

"LexCorp is his most likely target." Victoria leans close and strokes a playful finger down his tie. "He doesn't like it when you get too independent. Besides Lionel has to know that as soon as LexCorp is strong enough, you'll start working to bring down LuthorCorp."

"He knows, but I'm certain that he's confident that he can cut me off at the ankles any time he chooses." Lex watches the shift of pearls over her her breasts with idle interest.

"Thanks for the jet, Lex." Victoria slips off his desk.

"I want my pilot back in one piece."

"Lex! Would I break your pilot?" She grins over her shoulder as she slips back out the door.

  


	14. Monday After Blues  (14/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark gets jealous and fails to keep his nooner appointment. Lucas gets annoyed while party planning. Clark runs into Lucas and discovers what Lex has planned as payback.

Clark stands in front of LuthorCorp, oblivious to both the bitter wind and the hurrying pedestrians. His hands tighten around his box of jams as he watches the beautiful woman strutting out the building. First Oliver admits to a relationship with Lex, and then, Lex sends those damned Cupcake Cowboys over, and now he finds Victoria Hardwick leaving LuthorCorp. He doubts that she was there to see Lucas or Lionel. Somehow, he no longer feels like dropping by Lex's office. Clark turns slowly away and walks down the street. He might as well go to Met U. Look up Pete or Lana and divide his apple jam between them. Do some research for that paper that he's been putting off. Do some thinking about what sort of relationship boundaries he wants to set with Lex.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Jackass. Lucas snaps his phone closed. He stares down at the last name on his list. Mr. Alastair Wynland. That prick clearly doesn't know who he's fucking with. How dare that scum sucking assbackwards jerkwad dickhead say stuff like that about Lex? He might have his suspicions about his newly discovered big brother, but so fucking what?

Lex is his brother, and no dickless wonder is going to get away with talking trash about Lex like that. Lucas glances around the pizza place, none of the Met U students are paying any attention to him; they seemed to think that he's stray businessman or perhaps a professor catching a very late lunch. His gaze lingers on a table full of lively sorority girls. Maybe he should take big bro's advice and go to class.

He leans back against orange plastic of his booth and eases his wallet out of his trouser pocket. He riffles through the selection of credit cards tucked away in the hidden slot. Nothing like having a few alternatives on hand, although it has been awhile since he needed to be someone else in a hurry. He slides a card out and looks it over. Hmmm, what about Brad? He hasn't been Brad in a long time.

Lucas slips a hand into his inner jacket pocket and takes out his emergency prepaid cell. He drops it onto of his Met U student handbook and picks up his regular phone, and accesses the place's wireless signal. He flicks through local businesses. Which ones shall he use? Ah, that one sounds good. Lucas picks up his second phone and dials the number. "Hello? Is this Fiona's Fast Flowers? I would like to send six dozen red roses to Alastair Wynland's office. Yes, there is message - Alastair, thanks for giving me a night to remember. Call me as soon as the divorce goes through. Hugs and kisses, Brad."

He glances at the Brad card. What else should he charge to the card. Lucas scrolls through the list of businesses. There's always the traditional pizzas every thirty minutes prank, but that's so ordinary. Unworthy of a Luthor. What else do they have? Candy? Strippers? Fruit basket? Balloons? Rap-O-Gram?

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Clark piles the thick white plate on his tray high with pizza. He surveys the crowd as he fills his cup with soda. There's not a single empty table, but that's okay. He'd rather have company for lunch than eat alone. He had left Pete in the library, frantically racing to finish a forgotten essay due in the next class. When he'd called Lana, she had been on her way out to meet a lunch date. He can only hope that she had better luck with her nooner than he had.

How mad is Lex gonna be? Clark pulls the paper off a straw and sticks it into the dark liquid fizzing around the ice cubes. And does he care? He hadn't minded that Lex had sent Chloe flowers, but sending Oliver those cupcakes - and they had looked really good too, perfectly shaped and covered with thick sweet icing. What had that been about? Did it mean that Lex was sweet on Oliver? And that message - Lex missed Oliver?! That didn't sound like a relationship that was completely over despite all the other stuff about not contacting Lex.

Clark stomps through the narrow aisles, checking out the empty seats. His eyes widen. Lucas Luthor? What the hell is that idiot doing at a Met U hangout? Probably chasing college girls. Clark scowls and heads for the opposite side of the room, but wait, Lucas might know something about Oliver and Lex. Clark pivots, ignoring the cursing of the guy that he almost rammed, and stalks back toward Lucas' table. No surprise that that dipstick is alone. Who'd want to sit with Lucas? Really, he's doing the pest a favor.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Kent?" Lucas frowns at the scowling brunette looming over him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I go to Met U. What are you doing here?"

Lucas watches as the big moron sits down across from him. "Make yourself at home, Kent. Don't bother asking."

"Like there's a fist fight going on over sitting with you." Kent sets his overflowing tray on the table and frowns as he eyes the two cells sitting on top of the Met U handbook. "Why do you have two phones?"

Lucas rolls his eyes. Why do his brother and his dad like this loser? Like he's gonna bother explaining secret identities and the virtues of disposable phones to Klueless Kent. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Luthors, maybe." Kent chomps down on a loaded pizza slice with big, white teeth.

"I suppose that expecting a hick like you to be able to multitask like a Luthor would be too much." Lucas picks up his call list and flips through it, counting up the check marks scattered over the list. He's got his quota of auctionees filled; a dozen guys and a dozen girls along with a couple of standby alternates in case of emergency.

"Oliver Queen!"

Lucas looks up startled. He had no idea that Kent could manage such a menacing growl. It's like hearing a T. Rex roar coming from a wiggly puppy. He flips to the front of his list and there's Queen's name with a check mark next to it. "So? Don't bid on him if you don't like him, Kent. Not that you could afford him anyway. According the figures for other auctions, he always rakes in the big bucks."

"You're holding a bachelor auction?"

"Not me, idiot. LuthorCorp. This year's party theme is auctions. We're auctioning off all kinds of things - art, services, guys, gals."

"Who paid so much for Oliver?" Kent bites into another pizza slice. "And why is he in a LuthorCorp auction?"

"No idea. Probably some chick trying to nail herself a millionaire." Lucas shrugs. "As for why? Welcome to PR 101, butthead. This is an easy way to get your name in the news and gain reputation for being a good guy who gives to charities."

"And you don't think it's weird that Oliver Queen is participating in a LuthorCorp backed project?" Kent demands. He shoves more pizza into his mouth and chews aggressively.

"Not the way he and my brother are." Lucas lifts his beer bottle to his mouth. He watches with interest as Kent inhales, chokes, coughs, and thumps a big paw against the massive sweater covered chest a couple of times, before managing to draw a wheezing breath.

"What - what way is that?" Kent gasps as he reaches for his drink.

Damn if he's gonna admit to Klueless that he doesn't really know where the massive hostility between his brother and Queen originated. Every time he's asked Lex about it, his brother changed the subject. All he'd gotten was that the pair of them had been doing their best to kick each other in the balls since they were teens. Lucas takes another sip of his beer, making Kent wait for his answer. "They have some sort of bet riding on the auctions. On who draws down the biggest bids. This year Lex bet that one painting by him will get more money than a date with Oliver would."

"Pa-pa-painting?"

What is Klueless' problem now? Lucas stares at Kent over his beer. Do the other Kents actually allow this moron out in public? "Lex paints."

"I know Lex paints!" Kent slugs back more of his soda. "Which painting is he entering in the auction?"

"I dunno. Something with a Christmas theme."

"Christmas?" Kent pales.

"It is that season. What else would he paint, moron?" Lucas searches his memory. He hadn't really been paying attention when his brother had mentioned it, other than making a note to arm twist his associates into making a high bids on the painting. But if the idea makes Kent turn such weird alternating shades of red and white - Lucas grins as the memory pops into place. "Santa. Something about Santa and his hat."

"Santa?"

Wow. He had never heard such a big guy's voice hit a note that high. What's with Klueless and Santa? Had he uncovered a secret phobia? Lucas leans back against the back of the booth. "That's what he said."

"Oh, god." Kent stares down at his pizza. "Oh, god. He is pissed."


	15. Monday After Blues  (15/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that evening, Lex is still annoyed and has plans for Clark. Lex, Lionel, and Lucas talk.

Lex cracks open the door leading to the library and listens to his dad's and brother's voices. Had they been involved in the attack on him this evening? Oliver could've been behind it. Could've hired the shooter. Hell, could've been the shooter. But as much as he hates to admit it the blond wasn't quite that big a cretin.

Setting up an attack after publicly trading snarls with him in front of LuthorCorp, that would've been begging for the cops' attention. Unless Oliver had gambled that he would take care of the captured shooter privately rather than troubling the authorities with the woman. He might have if Sheriff Adams hadn't patrolled past at a most inopportune time. Perhaps he should arrange for a repeat visit by the Cupcake Cowboys. A public one at Oliver's next press meeting.

"And how do I know that it wasn't you?" Lionel asks.

"Me?" Lucas demands, all outrage. "I wasn't there."

"You didn't have to be."

"Neither did you. I bet you were in a nice, public place with plenty of witnesses."

Lionel asks mildly, "And you weren't?"

"You really should know better than to ask Lucas something like that," Lex pulls the doors open and walks into the library. "He might tell you. If he was having sex in the middle of a park fountain, I'd rather not hear all the details."

"Fountains are tricky, bro." Lucas grins from the depths of his brown leather chair. "It can be very startling when water jets up unexpectedly. All that sloshing about really messes with your balance too."

Lex sighs with exaggerated loudness. "Didn't I just say that I didn't want details?"

"That's not a detail. A detail would be if I told you that one of girls had this freaky tat on her tits of a -"

"Lucas!" Lionel snaps. He tucks bookmark between the pages as he studies his eldest son. He rises from his leather chair. Behind him the stained glass panes gleam, rich and somber as they catch the glow of the moon and the glint of security lights in the garden. "Lex, are you certain that you are okay? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

"And I'm not, but does anyone care? No," Lucas mutters. He glowers resentfully at the thick book spread open between his hands.

Lionel gives his youngest a repressive stare before turning his gaze back to Lex. "Do you think this latest attack has anything to do with the attack in Detroit? It's the second attempt that's been made on you this month."

"How can I know that when I don't remember anything about Detroit?" Lex asks. He touches the cool dryness of his lavender sleeve, remembering his suit soaked with rain. The hardness of pavement beneath his knees, and the blank blackness spreading through his mind. The dim sense of regret as he saw Kara clutching Lois like a lost child with a teddy bear as they watched him collapse.

He'd felt furious at not only failing to achieve his objective but at dying ignominiously in front of his lake angel like that. Even more so at knowing what sort of article that Lois would turn his death into while taking credit for finding and rescuing Kara. And that his Clark questions would go forever unanswered. But he'd awakened for the second time in his life to an unexpected second chance; this time he is going to seize every opportunity that presents itself.

Lucas glances up from his book. "Only twice? Slacker. Some idiots tried to beat me up last night. That was the fourth time this month. "

"We can't all have your winning personality." Lex strolls toward the bar. There had been more than two attempts on him. Is his dad really ignorant or merely dissimulating? "Ah, but did any of them try to shoot you in the head?"

"No, but then since I'm not a fathead, mine isn't as big a target as yours."

"Fathead? What are you - five?" Lex asks.

"It's this place." Lucas scowls looks around at the polished wood, leather chairs, and shelves heavy with books. His scowl deepens as he glares at the huge Christmas taking up one corner and glittering array of decorations strangling the newels and balustrades. "It's a bad influence. Messes up my fucking vocabulary."

"Lucas." Lionel shakes his head. "Language."

"I was set to go have a little fun with the locals at that pitiful excuse for a bar they've got here - Wild Chipmunks or whatever. I even dressed special for it," Lucas tugs at the collar of his denim shirt. "But Dad dragged me in here."

"I'm trying to instill a little culture in Lucas." Lionel sits back down in his chair. He picks up a fresh new hardback book with a gold-edged book mark sticking from between the pages. He looks down at the smiling woman on the white cover.

Lucas sighs again. "He means he's bribing me to plow through this Greek crap. Save me, bro. It's corrupting my innocent mind. I'm beginning to wonder about Achilles and that Patty guy."

"Patroclus." Lionel rubs the bridge of his nose over the bronze rim of his reading glasses. "His name was Patroclus, Lucas."

"Wonder no more." Lex grins at his brother. "They fucked like rabbits on every surface they could find."

"Language, Lex," Lionel rebukes absently as he opens his book back to his place.

"Oh, great, he's ruined the suspense. Can I stop reading now, Pops?" Lucas asks hopefully. His hands flex on the worn green cloth cover.

Lex raises an eyebrow at his brother. "How did he even get you to open it in the first place?"

"Bribery." Lucas grins. "It's always good."

"It usually works well for me." Lex studies the gleaming rows of decanters. What is he in the mood for tonight? His usual aged scotch? The brandy? The vodka? The rum? The tequila? Any choice is safe these days. PodDad is really taking the thrill out of choosing.

"You could both use Dr. Dawn." Lionel leans back in his chair. He taps his book. "I'll have the bookstore send you each copies of The Dawn of Your Best You. It's her latest."

"Dr. Dawn?" Lucas closes his book with a thud and carelessly drops it on the floor. "Who's she?"

"Don't ask," Lex advises as he sets a glass on the bar's marble counter. He reaches for the vodka.

Lionel studies a passage in his book and fumbles at the packet of highlighters on the coffee table. He pulls out a yellow one and uncaps it. "She's a life coach. Dr. Dawn comes highly recommended."

"By talk show hosts everywhere," Lex mutters as he watches his dad carefully highlight a section of text.

"Is she hot?" Lucas leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I'll be more than happy to see that she cums."

Lionel frowns at him. "Dr. Dawn is a lady."

"Oh. Boring, huh?" Lucas nods. "Gotcha."

Lionel pulls off his reading glasses and rubs his eyes. "If I can't persuade either of you to talk to Dr. Dawn, why not one of the new counselors and psychologists that I've hired to help my employees?"

"I dunno." Lucas pretends to consider the idea. "Got anything I'd wanna tap?"

Lionel puts his glasses back on and frowns at his youngest. "Remind me to arrange a sexual harassment seminar. Soon. Very soon."

"Great idea, Dad." Lex waits until his father's face begins to brighten and adds, "Lucas and I could use some hot tips. Groping random workers during the blackout exit drills gets boring."

"Awesome idea." Lucas gives Lex a look of mock admiration. "To think I've been lurking around the copiers, feeling up the clerks. The ones on the sixth floor are a feisty bunch. When is the next drill? I wanna be sure I get a good spot,"

"Be careful you don't get my bodyguards by mistake," Lex warns.

"Those are two scary broads. Where did you find 'em, bro?"

"Around."

Lucas nods. "Mercs, huh? Pour me a brandy while you're over there, wouldya? I wonder if they make bullet-proof beanies. You might want to look into that."

"Please, I demand a Fedora at the very least." Lex finishes mixing his own drink and pours a snifter of brandy for Lucas. He glances at his father, wondering if a little alcohol might loosen up those thin lips. "Want me to pour some brandy for you too?"

"No, thank you, son. Have you remembered anything yet about who shot you this time?"

"This time?" Lex raises his eyebrow. "You make it sound as if people shoot me every other day."

"There are far too many people that would like to," Lionel shakes his head in grave disapproval. "I wish you would try harder to make more friends than enemies, Lex. There's more to life than money and power."

Lex strolls over to where the other two men are sitting. He holds his drink in one hand and the brandy in the other. "Who are you, and what have you done with my father?"

Lionel leans forward. "Listen to me, son. You need to change your life. If you had tried harder to be the kind of man that I know you can be, you might still be married. You might have a family on the way. Learn from my mistakes."

Lex holds out the snifter. "Here, Lucas. You look like you could use this."

"Damn straight." Lucas takes the brandy and drinks. He stares disbelievingly at his father. "You're seriously suggesting that Lex should've knocked up the fucking bitch that tried to murder him?"

"I wonder if Dr. Dawn could have cured Helen of her homicidal and larcenous inclinations?" Lex sits in the chair next to his brother.

Lucas snorts. "Not as permanently as you did."

"I might be able to forgive her the murder attempt, but losing two jets," Lex shakes his head. "I can't see having children with someone so careless even if she were still alive."

"I was speaking of Lana," Lionel murmurs over his book.

Lucas grins at his brother. "Oh, I don't know. Dad lost me for a couple of decades and I turned out okay."

Lex smirks. "I rest my case."

"You have no room to talk. Didn't he leave you in a cornfield?" Lucas asks. "At least I was smart enough that he had to ditch me a continent away."

"It was a very exclusive kind of cornfield." Lex sips his vodka. "You wouldn't have been allowed to set foot in it."

"Lucas, Lex," Lionel looks from son to son, "I have made many choices that I regret now. The past is done and I can not change it, but I can change the now."

Lucas blinks. "The now?"

"Don't encourage him," Lex advises. "You wouldn't believe what he's been watching on TV."

"I want to be a better father to both of you if you will give me the chance."

Lucas asks, "Are you sure that Helen is dead? She believed that you were and look what happened to her. Her body was never recovered."

Lex leans back in his chair. He wouldn't have survived the crash if not for his meteor enhanced resilience. It's barely possible that Helen had survived the initial crash, but he had chosen the location with great care. "I doubt that she survived."

"You sure know how to pick 'em, bro." Lucas smirks. "Always go to a pro. Know what I mean?"

His phone vibrates against his waist. Lex unfastens the black leather holster and pulls his phone out. He stares down at the text message. So after missing their noon appointment, and failing to call, Clark now wants to see him. The alien should really be more careful about what he asks for. Lex puts the phone away. "I'm going out."

"Heading over to the Wimpy Coyote?" Lucas nods approval. "Way to go, bro. Gotta use it or lose it. Want me to hook you up with something hot and spicy?"

"I think I can manage on my own, Lucas."

"You look a little pale, Lex." Lionel peers over his glasses at his son. "Why not stay home and rest tonight?"

"Gonna put Lex in his jammies and read him a story?" Lucas rolls his eyes. "Don't forget the cookies and glass of milk."

Lex shakes his head. "I have something to take care of."

Lionel stares at his son over the rims of his reading glasses. "And how is Miss Hardwick these days?"

"Amusing as ever."

Lucas sniggers over his snifter. "Hard. Wick. You know a girl named Hardwick - is that her real name or her porn name?"

Lionel closes his book. "My advise is to drop Miss Hardwick. She's a bad influence on you, Lex. There are more appropriate businesswomen out there who would be delighted to date you. Get married and start a family."

"You want me to get married?" Lex shudders as he thinks of what his parents' marriage had been like. That calls for the rest of his drink. He drains his glass and sets it on the table. "Why?"

"The usual reasons. You can't establish a dynasty without heirs."

"What makes you think I want to establish a dynasty?"

"Are you claiming that you don't want heirs for the empire you are building? That you want your legacy to fall apart like Alexander's empire did?"

"Alexander had heirs of his body." Lex sets his empty glass on the edge of the table. "So did Julius Caesar. None of those direct heirs inherited the empires in question. Caesar's adoptive heir took Rome, and Alexander's generals divided up his empire."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Not those two again. What is it with the history fetish?" Lucas walks over to the bar and pours himself another brandy. He takes a big drink. "I've had all the Greeks and Romans that I can take tonight. I'm off to the Wiggly Cricket."

"Lex, I only want what's best for you. You know that. Don't be stubborn. Miss Hardwick is playing on your attraction to her."

"Don't worry, Dad. I have no intention of giving anything away to Victoria." Lex glances at his watch. "If you'll excuse me."


	16. Monday After Blues  (16/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark's Justice Team mission goes bad when he encounters a flying mutant insect.

Clark moves up the back steps and eases the kitchen door open. He can smell popcorn and hear the sound of a movie playing, but the kitchen is clear of teenaged girls. He's too pleased to even care that his cousin is supposed to be studying while he was out on the training mission. Please, please, please, don't let any of the team ever find out exactly what had happened to him on tonight. He's got enough problems looming on his horizon.

Thank god that none of the team had a visual on him while he was hovering in the air and texting Lex. He'd killed the sound to his headset the second something had pounced on him from above; he'd ignored their increasingly worried voices through his short battle, but now he's gotta check in or they'll start looking for him, and he really doesn't want to be found in this condition. By anyone ever. He speeds across the stretch of floor between the kitchen and the laundry room. Yes! He closes the door to the small room and relaxes.

Clark toes off his sneakers and drops them into the square utility sink. He wrinkles his nose at them. The mud isn't so bad; being muddy he's used to, but the insect guts - eww - he hadn't expected it to be so squishy or to explode on impact when he'd body-slammed it into Crater Lake. Then he'd had to fish out all the the giant insect guts and bits and incinerate them with blasts of his heat vision. Clark hops on one foot as he peels off his athletic sock. There's a muddy slurp as the cotton parts company with his toes. He removes the other one and tosses both of them into the sink.

Maybe he should rethink his stance on not accepting a costume from Oliver. The millionaire had offered to design a costume for him and equip him just as Oliver had done for the entire team, except for Chloe who'd breezily insisted that she was already costumed as a girl reporter. But he'd had the same reservations that he expected that Chloe had; accepting the costume, no matter what Oliver said, would be one step closer to joining the team, and he isn't sure that he wants to.

Oliver already tries to boss him around quite enough, and besides, he's not very happy working with Oliver at the moment any way. Clark turns on the faucet and rinses off his socks and sneakers. Time to find out if his shoes really are as washable as the sales clerk at Fordman's claimed. He turns and drops them into the waiting washing machine. His blue sheets are on top of the to-be-washed pile. Damn. That pile's getting kinda big. Clark wipes his hands on the hem of his sheet and taps his headset. "Guys?"

Oliver's voice is first, sharp with concern. "What happened?"

"You okay?" Bart comes on next. "Need me to run by your location?"

"If you need a brother, say the word," Victor offers.

"Do you need us?" A.C. asks.

Chloe's voice is tight with worry. "Where do you need us? Are you hurt?"

Only his pride, Clark thinks as he squirms out of his jacket. He looks at the damage and scowls. Damn it. It's his favorite red one. Clark turns the jacket this way and that, examining it in the silence; the fabric is shiny with moth scales and moth - stuff. God, he can hear Lex laughing already. "Just my pride. I - well - I got distracted and I didn't notice that the headset was off."

"You what?" Bart asks.

"By what?" Oliver demands with disapproval.

"Was he cute?" A.C. rumbles with interest.

"What happened this time?" Victor sighs with resignation. "It was one of those freaky ass things that only happen to you, wasn't it?"

Well, yeah, but they didn't have to be like that about it. Clark snaps, "I got distracted. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Oliver announces sternly. "Your team mates could get hurt or even killed if you got distracted at the wrong time on a real mission."

Clark frowns. He wasn't asking permission or forgiveness for it, and he defies even Oliver to not be distracted in the same situation that he'd been in. Heck, he defies anyone to not get distracted by this. Even Batman. He bets that Batman never gets humped by giant mutant moths. Of course, Batman looks like a bat, and bats ate insects so - Clark wonders if bats ever got personal with Batman. Probably not. Bats are smart enough to know when a prospective mate is of the same species or not.

"That's easy for you to say," Victor jumps in. "You don't have the same issues that the rest of us do. We're different and sometimes unexpected shit happens because of our differences and we have to deal with it."

"That's true," A.C. agrees.

Chloe sighs. "Discovering something new about yourself can be very distracting whatever end of the spectrum you are on in terms of mutant to metahuman to fully human. I think we can all agree on that."

Stupid moth. It could've at least taken him to the movies first. Clark yanks his sweater off and stares at it. The wool gleams stickily. God, that had been gross. He just hopes that that's moth spit that soaked through to his skin and not moth other stuff. He dumps his sweater in the sink and readjusts his headset just in time to hear Oliver's voice again.

"What could possible distract you from a mission?"

Chloe chimes in immediately in his defense, "Did you have to stop and help someone?"

"Uh-huh." It takes several minutes of fumbling with the slime slippery buttons to unfasten his jeans. Clark grimaces as he tugs his jeans and boxers off with one yank. Stupid, stupid, stupid moth that couldn't tell a flying Kryptonian from another giant moth. He rinses his clothes off and then tosses them into the washer. "It wasn't like I could ignore the situation."

"Of course not!" Bart exclaims.

"Protecting people is what we're here to do," Victor agrees.

"I understand. But next time, try not to get so distracted that you turn off your headset," Oliver orders. "You can stand down for the rest of the night's training mission, The rest of us will continue."

"Okay." Clark wipes his hands on his sheets and reaches for the box of detergent. He measures the powder into the machine. Just like Oliver to consider being given the night off punishment, and to forget that he's not really on the team or under the Green Arrow's command. He turns the water on and is about to close the lid when his sheets catch his gaze. He adds more detergent and shoves his sheets into the washer. Let the soap and moth spit fight it out in there. If his sheets lose, he'll finally have an excuse to buy a new set.

And if that doesn't work, maybe he needs to parade the streets of Metropolis, wrapped in his sheets, as it's newest superhero - TogaMan! It wouldn't be long before his sheets were no longer fit for wearing or any other purpose except cleaning rags. Only - what if TogaMan was a hit? What if stores offered him money to fight crime in their sheets? What if people felt sorry for TogaMan and took up collections to buy him new sheets? That wouldn't do.

He reaches for bottle of liquid hand soap and his pillowcase and gives himself a quick once over, scrubbing until the sticky feeling is gone from his skin. Not as good as a real shower, but it will do until he can tip past Kara and her study buddies to get one. Clark sticks his head under the stream of water. He gropes across the counter for the bottle and squishes out the last handful of soap. He lathers up and rinses off, patting the dampness from his hair with the second pillowcase. There. That's better. He's fit to be seen now.

Clark adds the pillowcases to the washer and leans down to investigate the folded piles of clean clothes arranged in his and her piles on the folding table. He grabs a pair of sky blue boxers and some clean jeans. He jumps at the sudden popping noises coming from the kitchen and then relaxes as he places the sound. Popcorn, that's all it is, but who could blame a guy for being twitchy after getting molested by a moth. He pulls a clean Crows sweatshirt over his head and saunters out past Kara and her popcorn munching buddies. "Time to wrap up the study session and get to bed, Kara."


	17. Monday After Blues  (17/17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is surprised in his bed by a late night Lex visit.  
> Part 3 of the Rescue Series continues in "Tuesday Tribulations".

Several hours later, Clark stirs in his bed. Is that scotch that he smells? He snuffs against his pillows, nothing but the scent of freshly washed flannel there. He turns his head and there it is - that smell of scotch again. What the heck? He opens his eyes and sees a crystal tumbler on his bedside table; dark liquid shimmers inside. Wait. He hadn't poured any scotch out tonight and he doesn't own a glass that looks like that. His mom has some crystal wineglasses for special occasions, but this - he lifts up on his elbows just as the bed dips and a solid weight settles on the small of his back.

"Hello, Clark."

"Lex?"

"You were expecting someone else?" Lex's husky voice turns hard.

"No!" Clark collapses back down on the bed as he claps his hands over his mouth. Shit. Had he awakened Kara? There's no sound of feet on the staircase. "What are you doing here?"

"To talk."

"Yeah? Well, maybe you shoulda texted me back then instead of ignoring me."

"This kind of talk is best done in person."

"You sent flowers to Chloe."

"Girls like flowers."

Clark scowls at his pillows. "And cupcakes to Oliver."

"It seemed appropriate." Lex eases the sheets lower and begins massaging the younger man's tight shoulders. "My long acquaintance with him has to led to the inescapable conclusion that Oliver is a cupcake. I think he got the point; he wasn't very happy when he stormed my office."

Clark looks over his shoulder at the shadowy figure straddling his back. "And what about the message about being sorry to miss him?"

Lex chuckles quietly. "And indeed I was. I was sorry that I missed Oliver in the same way that the woman sniping at me this evening was sorry that she missed."

"What? Lex," Clark turns, grabbing the other man. He gasps in surprise at finding bare skin under his palms. He hastily tucks his lover beneath his flannel sheets and rubs his hands over shivering skin. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Fine. The usual."

"The usual? Again?"

"Clark, you've been around me long enough to know how it goes. I'm a Luthor. When people aren't trying to kidnap me, they're trying to kill me."

"You caught her?"

"My guards did. Mercy and I kept her distracted while Hope crept up on her. I didn't even have to call it in, Sheriff Adams arrived on the scene shortly after Hope subdued my attacker."

Clark frowns uneasily at the faintly annoyed note in his lover's voice. "Lex, you did intend to call the Sheriff, didn't you?"

"Naturally. What else would I do?" Lex leans down and growls in his lover's ear. "That message was delivered to Queen Tower. What were you doing there - with Oliver?"

"I - uhm," Clark gulps. "Talking. Visiting. You know."

"Talking," Lex pushes his bare cock against Clark's hip. "Like we're talking?"

"No! Like talking to Lois. Jeez, Lex, how could you think -"

"You didn't show up."

Clark presses an apologetic kiss against his lover's tight mouth. "I was confused. I kept looking at Oliver and he's so handsome and polished and -"

"Oliver is a cretinous cupcake. Are you trying to tell me that you are attracted to that blond buffoon?"

Clark shakes his head. "No, but you two went to school together, and neither one of you will talk about that. You've both gorgeous and suave and -"

"If you keep comparing me to that imbecile, I will take a picture of you sleeping and send it to your parents from my personal email account."

"Lex!"

"I suggest you keep that in mind the next time you get the urge to mention me in the same sentence as Oliver."

Clark can't stop the smile growing on his face. That doesn't sound like a man talking about a lover that he regrets losing. He pulls Lex closer and whispers, "Speaking of pictures, Lucas tells me that you are auctioning one off."

"Planning on bidding on it?"

"Yeah, right. Like I got any hope of having a winning bid in the kind of crowd that will be attending that party."

"Play your hand well and you will have all the Lex Luthor original that you can take." Lex thrusts against the hot length of the brunette's damp cock.

"Oh, god." Clark groans. "Lex, we can't. Kara's in the house."

"Then you better be very, very quiet."

Clark grabs his lover's flanks, holding Lex still. He bites his lip to hold back another moan as his hands flex greedily over the other man's delectable ass. He may have made a slight strategic error in hand placement. God, Lex feels good. "Lucas said -"

"I can't believe that you have a double handful of my ass and you want to talk about what my brother said."

"That the painting involved Santa."

Lex sniggers. "Worried?"

"Promise me that the painting will be one that's suitable for all ages, Lex."

"That's a bold demand, considering that you still owe me for the no-show nooner."

"I could make it up to you," Clark offers throatily. "I could deliver a makeup nooner tomorrow."

"And so you shall." Lex kisses him. "I left a box - an anniversary gift of sorts on your desk."

Clark stares over his lover's shoulder at the white box sitting on his wooden desk. Anniversary gift - as in an electrical appliance? He shivers as he contemplates the possibilities. "What's in it?"

"No peeking," Lex orders sternly. "Tomorrow morning, you will open the box and follow the instructions."

"Okay." Clark swallows. He's not going to sleep at all tonight, wondering what's in the box and what his instructions will be.

"Now about that painting that you are so worried about. I could substitute a different holiday painting - if sufficiently motivated."

"What would it take?"

"I want to fuck you."

Clark gasps at the hoarse words whispered in his ear. "Lex."

"Now."

"But Kara -"

"So? Be quiet." Lex grins. "You can be quiet, can't you?"

Being that quiet while Lex fucks him may kill him. Clark glowers at his lover. "Can't we go to the barn?"

"You know how I feel about being cold."

Clark promises, "I'll keep you warm."

"I'm already warm here. Ahhh, the fantasies that I've had about fucking you in this bed." Lex noisily slaps the brunette's flank. "Turn over."

"Lex," Clark shifts over even as he protests, "I don't think that I can be that quiet. She's gonna hear us."

"Scare she'll call your parents?" Lex picks up the tumbler and takes a drink. He leans down to kiss the brunette.

Oh, god. Clark opens his mouth to slow invasion of Lex's tongue. Oh, god. He can taste the scotch and it tastes a million times better on his lover's mouth. He moans in protest, arching his neck to keep contact as Lex pulls away. Then the sheets are yanked back and liquid is spilling over his shoulders, down his spine, flowing between his cheeks and Lex's mouth is moving over his back, sucking at his scotch wet skin.

He whimpers into his pillow as his lover's hot mouth moves downward ever so slowly. Carefully licking every drop away. He squeaks as Lex's fingers glide idly over his cleft, sliding deeper with each pass, teasing him with the sly promise of where that mouth will be traveling. Oh, god. How long can Lex linger over the small of his back?

Planting row after row of sloppy wet kisses over his belt line, tonguing the dimples near the base of his spine, biting the upper curves of his ass. It feels like Lex had dawdled there forever. Damned tease of a Luthor. Clark spreads his legs wider and lifts his ass in blatant invitation. He bites his pillow at the slow lick that slicks from the top of his cleft to his balls and back again.

Lex spreads him wider and that sly tongue is back, flickering over his furl. Slowly stroking, relentlessly circling as if Lex can't decide which he likes best. And finally when he can't take it any longer, there's a soft push against him and the wet muscular heat of Lex's tongue is broaching him even as Lex's hand wraps around his cock and pumps. Clark abandons his pillow to stuff sheets in his mouth, trying to stop the urgent primal moans escaping him as Lex licks deep inside, apparently content to explore until the end of time.

Unable to stand it any longer, Clark yanks the muffling sheets away. "Fuck me, damn it! Fuck me right now! God, Lex! Fuck!"

There's a low laugh and then Lex is sliding up his back. "I'm not sure I understand. Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Lex! Do it. Now. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, ahhhh, god." Clark arches greedily back, opening himself against the wide crown of Lex's cock as it pushes slowly inside. He doesn't want slow. He doesn't have time for slow. Not when he feels he's going to explode any second now with Lex's cock sliding deep and Lex's strong hand stroking him so perfectly. "Hard. Do it hard. Fuck me hard. Now, Lex! Now."

"Like this?" Lex kisses the brunette's nape as he moves faster, thrusting into his lover's eager heat.

Clark buries his face in his pillow, trying to muffle his cries as he bucks frantically beneath his lover and then cums against his mattress. He can feel Lex still hard inside him, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. The other man feels so good pressed deep inside. Clark lifts his ass in offering to wonderful thick hardness gliding in and out until Lex trembles against him and fills him with liquid heat.

"Still think I want Oliver's stupid ass?"

Clark smiles at the breathless whisper. He smiles wider at the sharp nip to his shoulder. "No. I think you want my stupid ass."

"Your ass is perfect. I could stay buried in it all night."

Clark reaches back as his lover starts to ease out. "No. Wait."

"What?" Lex tense against him. "Clark? Did I hurt you?"

"No. I like the way you feel. I - can we stay like this for a little longer?"

Lex relaxes against him. "We could do that. You know that every time I walk by your dad in the street, I'll be wearing a big, big smile and thinking of fucking you in this bedroom, under his roof."

Clark laughs softly. "Perv."

"That's rich coming from the guy who was screaming 'Fuck me' a few minutes ago. Forget all about your cousin?"

"Was I that loud? Shit!" Clark looks over his shoulder. "Do you think she heard?"

Lex grins. "Not unless you yelled a lot louder than that. She's at the Talon, for the first night of their classic Christmas move viewings."

"It's a school night, Lex."

"Give it a rest, Clark. School's almost over and you know it."

That's true. Clark yawns. His dad probably wouldn't agree with Kara being out this late on a school night, but he doubts that she will have any trouble passing her test tomorrow. His dad wouldn't like Lex sharing his bed either, but what his dad doesn't know - although if his dad does figure out what Lex's big, big smile is about, he's going to be in so much trouble. Still, he can't really bring himself to care with Lex smooth and warm against his back.

The End


End file.
